Kernoel77

Magic Breaker Ch 25-27

Chapter 25: Safe Zone

It is, in fact, the same gathering place we were almost not let out of yesterday. The guards are different, though, and don’t recognize us, so we don’t get any trouble. It’s still a lot of humans, but they seem to have expanded to a few nearby buildings, and more tents have been set up.

Organized. It’s organized, there is food, there is water. So what’s the trouble? I know something is off.

The safe zone doesn’t envelop the entire place, but I do eventually feel it take hold. It’s half an enforced rule, half an agreement. Anyone who breaks it will be punished, and retribution against them is acceptable, or so my intuition says.

It makes the air smell faintly of plastic. An artificial, chemical sorta smell. Like wearing a too-tight shirt.

But I bear with it. I don’t fight it, don’t suppress it. I just solidify more mana within my pocket. Out of sight of anyone else, I make a handful of needles, keeping my mana just below full at all times. 

I’m a little curious. I’ve been able to determine the level and species of other things before. Like when I looked at the wolf, or the first dreadarmor. But it’s not worked on other humans yet. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough? Something to consider.

Then, a second effect slithers alongside the safe zone.

It’s a smaller area, and much less noticeable. In fact, I can barely tell it’s active… but I have myself, Inu and Thatch selected. And so, I notice the change.

A tiny, insidious little bit of mana. A domain in a domain, a spell hidden beneath the safe zone. It’s a minor thing, just enough to instill a feeling of safety, and belonging. Loyalty, maybe?

Fucking disgusting. 

Norman doesn’t notice, simply walking forward with a smile. “This is lovely,” he says. “Can we weather the entire apocalypse here?”

Our guide nods. “That’s the plan, as far as I know. Most people end up volunteering to find others, though. Indomitable human spirit and all that, right?” he grins.

Inu’s dad nods conspiratorially. “Of course. Gotta stick together.”

“We fend off goblins every now and then, so don’t worry too much if you hear gunshots,” the guide notifies us. “Let me show you around.”

- - -

I [Suppress] the insidious nature of the safe zone on me, Inu, and Thatch. Opal and Sylves are too far behind. I know they’re out there, that much I’m sure of, but I don’t know where. That’s fine, though. They are strong. 

But still. Things are annoying. We’re shown where we can sleep, where we can get food and water, where we can get taken care of if we’re hurt. And finally, he wants to introduce us to the mayor. 

So, we head to the largest house around. Two police officers stand in front, decked out in bulletproof vests and larger guns. I don’t pay them much mind, even as they eye us suspiciously. We get waved through.

There’s a secretary, too, telling us that the mayor has time right now. She has a polite smile. Inu flinches from the effects of [Empathy]. Norman doesn’t notice, but Jess does. Her face falls a bit more with each passing second.

Ornate double doors open into an opulent office. It’s got a name plaque, but I don’t care. The mayor is just the mayor. I don’t think he deserves a name. 

He stands at the window, hands clasped behind his back. His suit is pristine, without any blood marring it. And yet, when my senses brush up against him, I get that instinctual kind of window. The one that tells me what someone is about.

[Mayor, lv. 18]

There is a distinct difference to it. I don’t know how to identify humans like that yet. It didn’t even work on Richard or Dar. Yet, on this guy, it works.

“Oh, more members of our little zone,” he says, turning to greet us. He is clean shaven, hair slicked back, smelling of strong deodorant. “Welcome. I do hope you haven’t suffered too much out there.”

I can hear the clicks of his tongue in his mouth. The way he talks disgusts me, and yet, I don’t mind him talking. Gently, I twist my mana, [Suppressing] that affection. I want to know how he got his levels. Should I [Deconstruct] him?

“Not too much,” Norman says. “We spent some time gathering everyone we cared for.”

“Then I hope you’ve brought them all here!” the mayor says, laughing a little. “Don’t worry. Everything is under control. All we need to do is bring more people to safety here. Humans ought to stick together, yes?” he asks, chuckling again.

Slowly, his eyes pass over our group, lasting just a little too long on each member. When he looks away from me, I [Select] him. For a brief moment he stops. I wait, keeping the connection from my skill faint. It’s weak, a tiny touch of mana, the tendril hidden away. I use my skill with mana to hide it as best as I can.

A moment passes.

The mayor moves on, smiling all the while. 

“I won’t take up too much of your time,” he says. “I simply wish to welcome you into our little community. Let me know if anything troubles you, and we’ll see it taken care of.”

“Of course,” Norman nods. “Thank you.”

“Good lad,” the mayor laughs, patting Norman’s shoulder. “Now, you go and get settled in, yes?” 

Norman nods again. “Yessir.”

And with that, we’re off.

All that remains is a tiny tether, upheld by a faint part of my mind, connecting me to the mayor.

- - -

We get a room assigned to us. A handful of rooms that we sit in. Thatch, Inu, and me in one. We don’t talk. But we do communicate. [Empathy] lets us share emotions and impressions, and with [Piercing Gaze], Thatch can catch more glimpses of what Inu and I are thinking of.

And yeah. There’s no doubt. This stinks to high heaven. The mayor is too high-level. Inu felt grossed out by him, and her [Empathy] had been acting funny. Thatch was keeping [Rage] running at low intensity, burning the insidious affection for the mayor to fuel his skill. 

Norman, though, seems entirely unbothered. He’s not stupid, per se, but he has never had any run-ins with authority, clearly. Inu feels apologetic for her dad, but no one is mad at her. 

What made the mayor’s level so high? Part of it is definitely experience from a class. Did he unlock one before level 10? Is his class sponsored? It identified him as mayor, so does identifying someone reveal their class instead of species when strong enough?

So many questions, so few answers. Inu decides to head out and see about getting a few answers. I, meanwhile, use my tether to the mayor to investigate. It’s faint and distant, but I have him selected. As long as he can’t cut the tether, he can’t stop me from using it on him. 

Maybe what I’m about to do he will notice, but I don’t care. As Inu gets up and heads out to ask some questions, I activate [Deconstruction]. I reach into that magical toolbox, and pick out tweezers, for now. Just a tiny instrument to grab bits of info.

I smile. Let’s see just how much I can learn before I get in trouble. 

 Chapter 26: The Mayor

He’s sponsored. I’m sure of that. Why am I sure? My tether connects us, and I want to know more about his class, so I pick at a tiny piece of it, just a grain of knowledge from the very surface. I get the intuition that his class is about social manipulation, as expected. 

And then comes the notification that lets me know he’s sponsored.

[You have caught the Eye of the Deceptive Manipulator.]

Another Eye on me. 

[The Creeping Darkness tells the Deceptive Manipulator to be dragged to the shadows.]

I blink. What? Are they… having a fight over me?

[The Deceptive Manipulator smiles sardonically.]

That’s ridiculous. Surely, there’s no way. 

No more notifications follow, and the previous ones dissolve into particles of blue. I’m sure I saw them, though. How bizarre. 

Quickly, I shake that surprise off, instead trying to feel as for whether or not the mayor felt anything. 

No reaction.

I take a deep breath, then activate [Deconstruction] again. The effect is minor, since I’m using a tiny bit of mana and he is so far away, but I am taking apart his class. Picking up pieces of it, however tiny, to observe what they do.

[Deconstruction 3 > 4]

I’m not putting them back. 

It’s a tiny thing. Barely noticeable, but I’m sure it will make him less effective in the long term. What a funny effect, that. The fact that I can permanently take something apart. It might regenerate on its own, but it’s yet another kind of insidious debuff I can apply.

Can I send my solidified mana across the tether of [Selection]? I know I can use [Suppression] through it. What a fun little exercise that is. 

Marking someone, walking away, then whittling them down from a distance. I pick up another tiny piece of the mayor’s class, analyze it, and discard it. My knowledge base of mana structures increases. I begin to understand how classes work.

[Class Up! Deconstructor 4 > 5]

The experience pushes my class a little bit higher, and then that level pushes my supremacy a bit more.

[Level Up! 11 > 12]

All three points go into vessel, this time. More mana means I can whittle him down more, means I can practice more and learn faster. I can learn how to remake my body from the healing spell, I’m sure. I can make my skills more powerful, too. But I need mana to learn all that.

In a lot of ways, mana feels like I’m investing in my training. All in on potential. I smile to myself. This world, the way it works… it’s fucked up. It’s horrible, in a lot of ways. I’ve seen corpses, and I’ve killed people. Right now, some idiot with a sponsor from a giant eye in the sky is trying to manipulate my mind.

How do I feel about that?

Great. I feel fricking amazing. It hurts. I did surgery on myself, tearing a shadow thing out of my side. I took an arrow through my shoulder. I despise the horrid feeling of the manipulation. It makes me feel dirty and disgusting.

And yet. All I need to do is break it down, understand it, and then move on.

I always loved learning. I love reading, I love watching videos, but if there is one thing I hate it’s needing to prove that learning to some outside force. I hate writing papers. Tests are tolerable because they’re fun puzzles, but papers? Just reviewing what I already know?

Horrible.

Now, I just get to use the skills, then grow them further. There is no one to answer to, nothing to prove except that I can keep myself and my friends safe. I smile. Some part of it all is freeing.

Gently, quietly, hiding my mana, I pick another piece of the mayor’s class of him and analyze it. A bit of general sympathy in this one. I memorize and discard it. Another piece. Oh? Gaining levels for when he spreads his influence. A part of his experience module. A tiny piece of it. 

I study it, and discard it. I pick up another piece. And another. And another…

Bit by tiny bit, I pick apart his class. I take the pieces of it, learn from them, then throw them away, letting them dissipate into motes of mana. Maybe he can regenerate them, maybe not. I find myself not caring very much.

Really, the mayor is already dead, I think with a smile. He just doesn’t know it yet. But I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him. 

Not for manipulating people, or his safe zone shtick, not for any of that. But for trying to cage me. For trying to manipulate Inu and Thatch. For the way his aura feels like it’s invading my personal space.

Really, I’ll kill him just for inconveniencing me a little. For a moment, just a brief moment, I wonder if he has a powerbank to charge my phone with. My battery’s running low. Maybe I’ll take it off his corpse.

- - -

Inu comes back. Sweating, distraught. I see it in her eyes. [Empathy] connects to me, and she offloads some heavy emotions. I accept them, laying a gentle layer of apathy over mine and hers, pulling her into a state of calm with me.

There, I give her a while to relax. She needs it, and I sort through the emotions she sent.

And wow. This mayor guy really is horrible. He’s done some messed up stuff to these people, using a skill that lets him take things from them.

He’s been stealing mana from people, and even vitality from their heart points. It was all a willing trade, of course, ones that he just strongly pushed them too, but he has stolen from people. Worse, too. 

Suffice to say, Inu doesn’t need to say anything for me to want to kill him. I look at her, quietly, raising my eyebrows and gesturing at the door.

She shakes her head. She doesn’t want to tell Norman, then.

I point at myself. Another shake of her head. Not me, either, then.

Thatch returns an hour later, bleeding from a stab wound on his leg, and another in his abdomen. Grimacing, I lay a hand on him, triggering my botched healing skill. It knits his flesh together, just a bit.

Then, I review what it’s supposed to look like. Try to mimic it. Review. Mimic. Review. Mimic. Until I’m tapped out of mana, and Thatch’s skin is scabbed over.

It still hurts, obviously, but he’s no longer bleeding. Slowly, he takes a long, deep breath. He looks at Inu, and through our links, we exchange info. I learn how he got into a fight.

Really, it was simple. Someone praised the mayor, and he didn’t cheer. Then he got called out, and shrugged about his affection for the man. Slowly, sentiments turned, until someone stabbed him.

Of course, the others pulled the stabber back. I look at Thatch, and he shakes his head. I sigh. No murdering the person who was manipulated, fine. Then I would simply hate the mayor more. 

Inu tells him of her experiences, and he grimaces. They’re just that bad. Slowly, we take our time to collect ourselves. My mana regenerates enough to take another piece of the mayor’s class.

[Class Up! Deconstructor 5 > 6]

And another point in vessel. Inu nods at Thatch, and at the door. He nods, too. He’ll tell Norman. We go outside, and head to Inu’s dad’s room.

Except that the others aren’t there.

Chapter 27: Manipulator

Norman isn’t there. 

None of the others are. Not Jess, not Bay, not Amelie. 

The reality of the situation takes a moment to sink it, but when it does, I see Thatch set his jaw. [Rage] lights up. It feeds off his very real fury. I’ve never really seen Thatch get angry.

And yet, now, he does. His skin tints a little more red, and I can feel the way his heart beats. It’s loud enough for me to hear, even standing next to him. He clenches his fists, and his nails dig into his palms.

For the first time, he speaks. “Snow? Can you find my mom for me?” His voice is quiet, measured.

“I don’t know,” I reply, and he turns to me slowly. Entirely contained, and making sure to fully control each tiny motion. “I don’t think I can find her, not with certainty. But I think I can guess,” I elaborate.

At that, he nods. “Okay. Let’s go.”

This time, after all the times Thatch has taken me by my word, it’s my time to listen. Gently, I nod. “Okay. Inu?”

“Yeah,” the girl says, swallowing heavily. “Let’s look for them.”

We head out.

- - -

The air smells of sweat. Of humanity condensed down to a small space. 

It’s funny. People live far apart here, and it still feels cramped. Like the makeshift walls are pressing in on me. The tents feel more like curtains, hiding things away, than the sanctuaries they should be.

I hate every moment of it.

Slowly but surely, I prepare my mana. I’m not wasting any as we walk, letting it gather in my vessel, solidifying a bit more of it. I already have a needle. But I want it to be bigger. So I can properly stab the guy with it.

Where could the others have gone? There is only really one place, isn’t there? The mayor’s mansion. Maybe he sent a runner to get them. Maybe they decided to head there themselves. It doesn’t really matter.

We walk there, too.

No one stops us. Oh, I see some people eyeing us warily, but no one tries to get in our way. Despite the anger, I can tell Thatch is very much so in control of himself. He just walks normally, straight back, loose shoulders. Well. I suppose he looks a little bit ready to tear someone’s head off.

But not enough to be suspicious, apparently. 

Finally, at the entrance to the mayor’s manor, we’re stopped. The guards stand there, relaxed. “Stop, what’s your business?” they ask as we approach.

“We’re here to see the mayor,” Inu says with a smile. 

“He’s a bit busy right now,” one of the guards says, scratching the back of her head. “If you could come back later, we-”

Thatch takes a deep breath. “It’s urgent,” he says, wringing out a polite smile. He looks the most charming of us, the most trustworthy. I go through the effort of pulling my face into a normal, awkward smile. 

“Yeah. We’re really sorry to bother, but it’s important,” I say.

“Can you just tell us?” the other guard, an older man with greying hair, says. “Maybe we can help you out.”

“My friend has a perception skill,” Inu says, poking at Thatch, “and we spotted a horde of goblins heading for the camp. There were also… werewolves?” 

It’s a lie. The guard’s eyes widen, though. “Werewolves?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she nods. “They had like… lizard tails, and spikes on their backs, a little like dinosaurs?”

The guard nods. “We’ve heard of them. That is important. Where from?”

“Down south,” Inu lies, smoothly. 

“Okay,” the woman says. “I’ll check it out. Blake, take them to the mayor?”

“Fine by me,” he says. “Come along then,” he says, waving us inside.

Usually, this kind of lie shouldn’t have worked, but… in a community like this? Where everyone was already manipulated to be reliant on the mayor, where they trusted each other, where there was no reason to lie?

It was a little bit like we were in a cult. They would believe rather outrageous stuff if it came from another member, and the talk of the wulven gave us a little more legitimacy - those were a real threat, after all. 

Slowly, we walk through the mayor’s manor. My mana collects in my vessel, and in the needle in my pocket. It’s not perfect, but I don’t need it to be. I feel my [Selection] grow stronger, the tether between me and the mayor becoming closer. 

Then, we hear them. “Norman, my friend,” the mayor says. “With those skills, you’d make an excellent scout. You should head to the tent for outside missions to bring in more people.”

“Of course, of course,” Norman’s answer is quiet. “Jess, would you come along-”

“Oh, pish, posh,” the mayor interrupts, laughing heartily. “Come on, Norman. The sooner you sign on, the more people we can save. You just leave your wife to me, yeah? To get sorted out.”

Inu frowns. Thatch grows more angry. Bay is in there, too. I wonder what Amelie is up to, then?

Slowly, we approach the door. The guard knocks, just as Norman opens the door.

“Oh,” he says, his eyes dull. “Inu? What are you doing here? Did you get sent for?”

“Goblins attacking,” the guard grunts. 

Inu nods. “Yeah. Thatch saw them. We needa speak to the mayor.”

“By all means,” Norman says, stepping aside.

The door opens fully, and we walk into the room. Jessica, Bay and Amelie are lined up. Amelie sits in her wheelchair, and turns to face us. I blink. There’s spiderweb wrapped around her shoulders. She’s… puppeteering herself?

A moment passes, as the mayor turns to face us, frowning. “What’s this about, then?” he asks. We walk inside, the tension thick. Norman eyes his daughter, seemingly confused. I walk in, feeling the tether to the mayor, learning more about how his skills work as I draw on it. 

The world seems to focus down on this moment. A shiver slowly travels up my neck. I feel watched. Definitely watched.

Ever so slowly, Thatch steps forward. He’s in perfect control, even as his heart thumps in his chest. The mayor is the first to notice, looking at the other man. Thatch steps in closer. Closer than he really needs to. 

A frown spreads across the mayor’s face. “What are you doing? Tell me what this intrusion is about!” he demands.

Thatch takes another step. He and the other man stand chest to chest. Thatch is just shorter than the mayor, but it doesn’t matter. He looms over him. Very slowly, he speaks. “That’s my mom,” he says, pointing at Bay. “What were you planning on doing with her?”

For just a second, the mayor’s eyes widen, then he feigns confusion. “What do you mean, young man? Come now, step back.”

Another moment passes. Thatch doesn’t obey. The guard twitches, and I [Select] his gun, suppressing its firing mechanism. 

[Rage] explodes, and with a brutal crack, Thatch’s fist slams into the mayor’s face.

Chapter 280: Cult of Infernal Flames

Chapter 280: Cult of Infernal Flames

“Hello,” Mercury said. “I’d like to join your cult.”

Chung Nam-Cheong stared at him. The young man, part of the Cult of the Infernal Flame, was just about to try to kill this pretentious, righteous looking wannabe cultivator. “Huh?” he asked instead, stunned into silence.

Mercury tilted his head. “Sorry, was I unclear? I’d like to see how your cult operates. Ideally from inside.”

“You wear pristine white robes and smell of privilege, old man,” Cheong-Bo said, sniffing the air and crinkling his face in disgust. “We’d eat you alive. You wouldn’t last a day in the kind of hell we’ve experienced. The people we take in are starving, rabid animals, in desperate need of a purpose, and that purpose is power.”

“Why power, though?” Mercury asked.

At that, the young man grinned, even as Mira smacked her forehead. “Power is vengeance,” he said. “Power is proof to the world that none of us are worthless, that we amount to more than anyone said. That we are not talentless.”

Mercury hummed in thought. “Talentless?”

Their discussion at the gate was drawing eyes. Chung Nam-Cheong was a guard at the southern gate of ice-flame. His yin-yang melding techniques were at the intermediate stage, but he was proficient enough to contribute to the cult in this way - and it was a safer thing to do in between extermination missions and attacks on the righteous sects.

But drawing eyes was dangerous. Being seen as easy picking by other disciples, making mistakes or similar, made one a target. Elders could withdraw resources, and it was easy to end up as a withered corpse, taken down by someone with too much bloodlust and too little sense.

So, Chung Nam-Cheong bit his lip, and shook his head. “Leave now,” he said, levering his spear at the righteous cultivator. “Or I will claim your blood essence to fuel myself.”

“Oh, please,” Mercury said, spreading his arms wide, invitingly. “Have a meal.”

Chung Nam-Cheong froze again, while the other righteous cultivator started snickering. The red-haired man in a pristine suit. A vein on his forehead throbbed, and Nam-Cheong felt anger course through his veins, igniting his meridians. “Are you mocking me?” he sneered. “I’ll make you regret it.”

Blueish, icy flames writhed along the length of his spear like a snake. The other disciples began grinning. Orphaned, mean-spirited kids, raised in a bloodthirsty area. They’d descend on the corpses like vultures, and internally, Nam-Cheong prepared to hand out a few beatings.

In a blink, he charged forward, stabbing his spear. “First ghostflame art,” he breathed, fog streaming from his mouth, “Freezing Snake-Stab!”!

His spear surged with renewed power, channelled from his legs up to his arms, delivered with a rotation of his hip. His blood-essence boiled, a hundred murders powering his strike. Killing was ingrained into his every muscle, even at the young age of twenty-one. He blitzed forward, excitement and anger mixing as he prepared to take yet another righteous heart.

But it was not to be.

Mercury, the righteous cultivator garbed in a stormy robe, brought up his hand. The motion was slow, but fast to Nam-Cheong’s eyes. It was the kind of slowness an avalanche had, the kind of motion that came with the profundity of the ocean.

And in front of the ghostflame, the cultivator just smiled.

The spear slammed into the hand, drawing blood. It pierced the bone of the palm, and exited out the other side, grazing Mercury’s throat, but it didn’t go any further. The snake of cold fire slithered forward, only for those purple eyes to fix on it and go ephemeral for a moment.

A heartbeat passed. And then, the snake of ghostflame, slithered forward fearlessly, wrapping about the cultivator’s arm - and then affectionately rubbing against his cheek. “What an elegant fusion of fire and ice,” Mercury praised as Nam-Cheong stared in horror. His qi technique was dissolving even as it did no harm to this cultivator!

“Let’s see, was it something like this…?” Mercury hummed. For a moment, his feet drifted, and he took up a stance, similar to Nam-Cheong. He breathed in, then out, and steam rose from his mouth. And he punched.

A snake of ghostly flame surged from his fist, and Nam-Cheong felt his blood freeze. Terror writhed in his bones. He flinched, but could only close his eyes, awaiting his doom. Offending an elder, a greater cultivator, was like that. Today, he had pulled the short end of the stick, and that meant death. The martial world was unforgiving, after all.

So, he just closed his eyes, mourned his vengeance, and died.

…

…….

……………….

He opened his eyes. Why was he not dead yet. The snake of ghostflame just hovered in the air, staring at him with curiosity. Behind it, that righteous cultivator stood, tilting his head. “Are you brave or just stupid?” the man asked. “Run if someone tries to kill you, jeez.”

Nam-Cheong blinked.

Relentlessly, the older cultivator prattled on, walking forward. The youth was too stunned to even lift his spear. The snake of ghostflame dissolved. “I mean, seriously,” Mercury said, arms crossed behind his back. “Don’t throw your life away like that, idiot. You’ve put in time and effort into learning techniques, the least you can do is prove worthy of them. Make this world a better place.”

“Better?!” one of the children spat, a girl, barely eight years of age. She was clambering up the wooden palisade, bravely standing atop one of the logs, dressed in rags, and sneering down. “This worthless world rejected us long ago! All that’s left is to destroy it!”

Mercury tilted his head. “Why?” 

For a moment, the girl was stunned, but Nam-Cheong answered in her stead. “Fairness,” he said simply. “The world was cruel to us. We deserve to be cruel back. It is our right and our honor to burn this rancid place to the ground.”

“That seems extreme,” Mercury said, scratching his beard. “Are all you cultists like that?”

“Driven by blood and murder?” Mira asked, her righteous attitude on full display. “Yeah, they are.”

Nam-Cheong sneered at her, then spat on the ground before her feet. “Keep barking, pampered dog, and we’ll see if a spear suits your mouth as much as a silver spoon.”

With a gentle motion, Mercury whacked her head. It was just light enough to ruffle her hair, but Mira still flinched. “Don’t be rude now,” he said calmly, his eyes glinting with wisdom. “We’re here to understand. To make things better.”

“And how will you do that?” the palisade-girl demanded, her eyes distrusting and fearful, yet fueled by spite. “This world has nothing to offer us but misery!”

“Edgy,” Mercury hummed with a small smile. “I brought candy.” He brought out a glowing-red sugary sphere, holding it carefully between two fingers.

A moment passed, then another. Suddenly, Nam-Cheong found himself awash in a tide of bodies. “Me, me!” kids called all over. “I want the candy!”

Very carefully, Mercury passed it out to a lucky girl, and she stopped for a moment. “Is it poisoned?” she asked, with narrowed eyes - which was enough time for a boy to snatch it from her hand and stuff it into his mouth. “I don’t care if it’s poison! I’ll live my last moments without regret!” Tears poured down his cheek as he tasted the sugary treat. Mercury wated, arms crossed, curiosity in his eyes.

“I have more,” the righteous cultivator announced.

And Chung Nam-Cheong was forced into requesting a piece of candy, too.

- - -

Chung Nam-Cheong was a Reforging-realm cultivator. Mercury took that comment in with his usual level of curiosity, asking about the realms, and getting swift answers.

Rusted-realm was for those beginning their cultivation journey. Then came Reforging, then Gilded. Then Golden-Core and Bladesoul after that.

Techniques came in different rarities, too. Ordinary, polished, earthen, heavenly. Their rarity or rank decided their efficiency. The speed at which they allowed their user to advance, the power at which they allowed their user to fight.

The ghostflame arts, used by Nam-Cheong, for example, were a polished-rank technique. And he had achieved first mastery in it, so he could perfectly execute the first step each tie he tried. 

Something Mercury had done after glimpsing the technique only once - in addition to altering it from a spear-technique to a fist one. When cultivator Chung brought that up, the old monster just smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head. “Must’ve gotten lucky,” he said, his storm robes warding the children from the rain.

Lucky. 

There was no such thing as lucky. There were only the blessed and the ordinary. Chung was ordinary, third son of a piss-poor merchant family. They could not even afford to feed him, so he ran away. He ate scraps with rats, he stole from stands and got beatings from guards, and the righteous sects sneered at his lack of talent.

So, he was angry. Yes, he was angry with the world. He took up demonic techniques, because they did not rely on talent-

“Talent is a lie,” Mercury said. Chung had not been talking out loud. But somehow, those words still left the old monster’s mouth. “Talent is a lie,” Mercury repeated.

“Yeah fucking right,” Nam-Cheong said, staring at the ground and grimacing. 

Instead of replying, the older man just smiled, leaving Chung Nam-Cheong to stew. His black robes billowed in the gentle breeze, his long, night-black hair moving gently. But despite his words, he considered that teaching. Old monsters rarely spoke, and when they did, their words were profound.

So, to have a lesson repeated when it was already given? It meant that at the very least, this person who was vastly stronger than Chung Nam-Cehong wanted him to ingrain it into his heart. “What realm are you, anyway?” he asked the righteous invader while sucking on a sweet sugary sphere.

“Mortal,” the old monster replied, and Chung Nam-Cheong chuckled in reply.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true,” Mercury said with a soft smile. It was gentle as a summer rain. “I come from the west.”

Instantly, the infernal cultist’s eyes went wide. “The west?!” he demanded. “Then you are an invader twice over!” he screamed, then jumped up, pointing his spear at Mercury’s throat again.

Except, this time, the red-haired man shifted. His movement was full of power, so fast Chung couldn’t even follow, and filled with the greatest yang-force he had seen in his entire life. For a moment, his world was in flames. For a moment, he had visions of the entire cult burning to ash in a crimson blaze.

Instead, a hand gently settled on the haft on his spear, pressing down until the bladed tip sank into the dirt. “Please refrain from threatening my boyfriend,” Zyl said politely.

Chung swallowed dryly. His fear froze his bones again. “I- uh-”

“Zyl, you scared the kid,” Mercury laughed. 

“Wait you are…?” the kid asked.

“Dating? Yes,” Mercury said happily, hopping up to his feet and wrapping his hands around Zyl. “Happily so, even.”

The monster that had just given Chung visions of his doom and that of everyone who had ever given him a chance in life, leaned into the embrace with a small and a chuckle. “You’re incorrigible,” he said, then kissed the other man on the cheek.

Chung blinked, then nodded. “Right,” he said. “I see. How do you… balance your yin-yang energies?” he asked.

Mercury snickered. “By talking about our problems,” he said calmly. “That’s the key to a happy relationship. Talking things over.”

Once more, Nam-Cheong blinked. Then, one of the kids punched him in the shoulder. It was palisade-girl, with muddy hair and muddier clothes. She grinned, though. “I had two dads before they got murked,” she said casually. “Stop being a weirdo.”

Defeated, Chung Nam-Cheong could only nod. The world was wider than he expected, and there was much for him to learn, it seemed. Perhaps he should try it sometime. Absent-mindedly, he took another sweet, to the great chagrin of the dozen younger kids fighting for it. And for a while, they just sat and talked. 

It wasn’t even martial topics. Simple, human conversation instead. Such as “what is the nicest meal you’ve ever had” or “when was the last time you showered” and “don’t you get cold in winter?”

Such a simple amount of care, and yet, it was more than Chung had received in his life. He stared, as the old monsters laughed at the children, and leisurely handed out cloaks of heavy fabrics from who-knows where. They seemed woven from intricate streaks of grass.

Chung wrapped his night-sky coloured cultist robes a little tighter, feeling almost out of place amongst the children, now clad in green. “Alice would love this,” Mercury hummed.

“Who is Alice?” Chung asked.

“A friend of mine,” Mercury replied casually. “A heroine.”

Those words echoed in Chung’s mind. A heroine. Was it possible? Were there truly kind people in this world? Within seconds, this old monster had spared his life - something he now owed a blood-debt for. They had given out food and clothing, seemingly out of the simple fun of it. Even when he had offended them, he had gotten away with nothing but a burst of intent and a warning.

“I-”

“What is this?”

A voice came from the skies. It was a furious, droning voice, and an old woman with billowing hair hung in the sky. Her mane was like a furious thundercloud, grey-black strands casting a shadow over Chung’s face. Instantly, his blood froze. “Elder Guleum!” Chung gasped.

The old woman fixed him with a stare like a lightning bolt. His blood froze, and fear lanced through him. Chung Nam-Cheong froze in fear. Even just staring at her was making the cold flames in his blood act up, and he writhed in agony. 

“What is the meaning of this?” elder Guleum asked again, her voice as cold as a blizzard and as sharp as a sword. 

Chung’s words died in his throat. He could not bear to raise his voice to an elder. He could not move, not speak, he felt like a mouse in front of a tiger. And then, suddenly, the weight disappeared.

“I’m simply learning a bit about the demonic cult,” Mercury said. The man in the white robes sat calmly, unbothered by elder Guleum’s rage. The old woman fixed her fierce gaze on him, and Chung felt tides of killing intent spill forth. The kind that would make him shrivel like an aged prune, that made his hair stand on end on pure proximity, yet the man just sat.

“We kill righteous dogs here,” the elder said. Her voice was calm, but her words promised violence.

Mercury calmly tilted his face. “I am no member of the righteous sects.”

“You wear white.”

“Are cultists not known for lying and cheating? What tells you I am not simply in disguise?” he asked.

“If you disguise yourself before me, then I ought to teach you a lesson, boy,” elder Guleum said, stroking her chin with a vicious grin. “Your blood essence will make a nice meal for me.”

With her words, her hair writhed, strands moving like dark thunder, streaking through the air as though alive. A moment passed, and the foreigner just tilted his head. “I see,” he said calmly. “You really should work on your hospitality.”

The elder sneered. “I will show hospitality to your corpse.”

And then, her hair surged forward - and instantly caught fire.

Zyl hung in the air, a pair of leathery wings spread from his back. A demonic technique? Chung had seen such wings before, on elder flying demon. Was this a mimicry of that technique? The elder’s wings were purple, rather than red…

In the blink that the thought took Chung, elder Guleum’s cloud of hair was reduced to nothing but a bob-cut.

She stared at the floating figure, slowly flapping his wings, and the demonic master stared back. “Can we like, talk now?” Zyl asked, smiling brightly.

Very slowly, and with a shaky motion, the elder clasped her fists together and bowed. “Elder Guleum Pi-Haneul greets the esteemed master.”

“None of that!” Mercury said, waving a hand as the kids hid behind him, hoping to escape the elder’s wrath. Despite everything, despite having nearly been killed and having had his life threatened, he still wore a calm expression. Chung watched as he pulled out a teapot from his robes, and lit a small fire on the earthen floor. Then, he gestured for elder Guleum to take a seat. “Come, let us talk.”

The look on the aged woman’s face was worth a thousand lashings, Chung thought.

- - -

“What is the meaning of this?!” grand-elder Yozai of the peak of frozen blood demanded.

Mercury responded by calmly throwing a teacup at his face. 

Okay, maybe “calmly” is generous-

- - - 

“Good tea,” grand elder Yozai praised.

“Good tea,” elder Guleum praised.

“Good tea,” Chung Nam-Cheong praised.

“Can I have juice?” palisade-girl asked.

Mercury rolled his eyes and poured even more sugar into her tea. “There, that’s basically juice anyway.” The girl happily brought the clay cup to her lips again, giddily giggling as she drank.

“You are from the west, then?” elder Guleum asked.

Mercury nodded.

“Some kind of… sorcerer?” grand elder Yozai asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mercury shrugged, then nodded again. “Sure,” he said. “Sorcerer works.”

“You truly have no cultivation base?” palisade-girl asked.

“None at all,” Mercury nodded. “My Skills are different, but no less strong. There are a million paths in life. The task is not picking the most commonly tread one, it is finding one for you.”

At that, the elders quieted. “Profound,” Chung Nam-Cheong whispered.

“The heck you mean ‘profound’?” Mercury laughed. “This is basic advice!”

No one graced that with an answer. It might’ve been basic, but when truly considered, who wanted to be a trailblazer, really? It was all about stepping in footsteps, making people proud. Just chasing a fad was something no one did.

Yet, somehow, it was something that had worked out for the sorcerer. He came here, to this land, instantly made their elders kowtow, then served them tea. Chung could not judge things properly, but he saw the way the elders swirled the liquid.

It was milky and a faint green, but they simply kept staring at it. Chung took another sip, feeling the aroma suffuse his bones with calm. It was a brew that made the whole world feel distant and unimportant. An attitude that was so simple it was laughable.

“Be happy,” the tea whispered. “Be kind.”

And that was all. It went against so many of the teachings of the cult. He was meant to be bloodthirsty, the ghostflame technique demanded it devour the flesh of other cultivators to raise his mastery. He fed on blood essence to grow himself, and he’d struck down no less than a dozen righteous scions who had come to their territory to exterminate them.

In short, Chung was not a good person. He was a mass-murderer. He was a ruthless, brutally efficient killer, and an inner disciple of the peak of killing cruelty. Even now, as he sat, his body was covered in barely-healed cuts, and yet, he sat with elders.

Elders who should have flogged him for forsaking his guard duty. Elders he should have kowtowed to a hundred times for even looking their way. But they simply forgot about him, staring at the tea instead, and the stranger just snickered at their antics.

“It’s just tea,” he said. “Nothing so profound.”

But the mirthful glint in his eyes spoke volumes of a different world. Chung knew that this sorcerer from the west was far different from anyone he had ever met. He was so far removed from the conflict of the lying righteous ones and the spurned vengeance of the cults. What a strange man, Chung found himself thinking.

And he wanted to know more.

“May I show you around the Cult of the Infernal Flame, esteemed sorcerer?” Chung asked. 

“Call me Mercury,” the man in white robes said. The man who had mastered techniques in a single gaze, who had beaten elders without lifting a finger, who had silenced them with nothing but tea. “And yes, I’d love to see more of the cults.”

Somehow, the world felt a little quieter when he was around.

Magic Breaker Ch 22-24

Chapter 22: Aliens

The arrow in my shoulder pins me to the tree behind me.

It was shot with a lot of force, too, having penetrated rather deep into the wood. It hurts, so bad.

Jess screams. There’s a roar in the distance. My heartbeat speeds up. Adrenaline courses through my veins.

A second passes, and Inu is in front of me. Another arrow goes into her arm, but stops before piercing through. She grunts, but I can tell that her [Resistance] is helping her. 

Opal is already on their feet, wielding a sword, while Richard stands there, stunned, staring at the wound in my shoulder. “Don’t hurt the blue one!” I say, loud enough for everyone to hear.

There is no hesitation in Opal, who instantly changes course to charge into the darkness at the edge of our clearing. It takes Amelie a little longer to react and send her puppets after our knight. Norman appears next to me.

“Snow.” His words are bitter, and I look at him. “This’ll hurt.”

I [Suppress] my pain, pouring my refilled mana into it. Norman grabs the arrow and breaks it off. I move forward, feeling the shaft, made from bone, slide against the inside of my shoulder. It burns, but my face remains neutral.

Then, I stand up. “Help Inu,” I say. Already, I twist my mana into that horrid, botched healing spell, restoring some mobility to my arm. It’s a bit better than the last time I cast it, even though it takes a chunk of my mana.

Still. I’m not scared. There are sounds of fighting out there. Opal grunting, Thatch and Bay sprinting after them, Jess reading a spell to fire into the darkness. I solidify a piece of mana as I jog off myself. 

It’s hard to see, but I strain my eyes. Can I enhance them with mana? I push a little bit into them, and it’s crude, but it does make the world just a little clearer. Just clear enough to see a figure drawing back a bow. 

Instantly, my [Selection] reaches forward, the ethereal tendril wrapping around the bowstring. Then, [Suppression] follows, and suddenly, it snaps. I smile. The creature holding it is big, covered with fur. It has a wolfish face, with a look of ferocity on it, but no anger.

Rather than furious or hungry, those eyes are frighteningly intelligent. It barks a few words at me that equate to some kind of insult of my power. Not strength, not at all, but just general fighting capability. 

I swap the target of [Suppression] and the wolf-alien kneels. Opal steps from the shadows, their sword swiftly descending to cut his head off. “Another to my right,” they say. “Fifteen steps.”

[Suppression] reaches out, finding a target, and I squeeze. The alien stumbles under newfound weight, and that precious second is all Opal needs. [Bound Armament] cuts down yet another creature. 

The forest grows a little brighter when one of the wolf-things throws a fireball. Then, from behind me, Richard jumps up into the air, and swallows it.

Just bites the flames, chomping them, her cheeks growing slightly in that hamster-like way. I look at her, she looks at me.

“Thank you for the meal,” she says, politely.

I nod. “Happy to help,” I say.

At that, she smiles. Her mouth isn’t filled with teeth, not properly. It’s more… engine like? A circular opening with spinning little turbine-things all over its sides, powered in equal amounts by matter and heat. 

“We hunt, my friend,” she says.

“Sure,” I confirm. 

Then, Richard opens her mouth, and a torrent of fire floods out. The heat pushes against my skin, blazing, and it even generates some wind, blowing my hair back. The sudden violence surprises me, but as the fires light the fur of a wolf-thing ablaze, Richard’s move seems reasonable.

My axe whips out, putting the burning beast down. I get ready to fight more, but the mood in the forest changes.

There is an enormous roar, and the sound of violence. Claws slamming into steel. The roar isn’t anger, it’s a challenge. A duel. I can almost hear Opal grin. “I accept!” comes the answer.

Instantly, the fighting dies.

The wolf creatures that were injured simply get up and withdraw. I get a better look at them, now. They’re tall, all around six feet or more, even with their slightly hunched backs, and wide. They seem strong. Their faces are snouts, like wolves, but they seem to have two maws in one. An upper and a lower one. 

Also, they have tails. And bone-spikes along the ridges of their back, and down to the tip of their tails. They seem almost a little reptilian, the bits of skin that aren’t covered in fur instead full of tiny scales. Do they have scales beneath the fur too?

Opal grunts in pain and the realization strikes me that I should probably be helping them.

I walk forward, and the wolves watch me warily. Eyes trailing me. Some of them have two, some have four eyes, and their tails move a little, as if in anticipation. I move forward until I see the fight, and notice Thatch already standing there, watching.

There is a ring of wolf-aliens around Opal and a bigger wolf-thing. Seven feet of hunched muscle, bound by fur. The creature has four eyes, one a set of blazing red, the other more orange. It does not wield a weapon, but it’s clearly a creature of skill.

Opal and the wolf dance around each other. My friend slashes out with their sword, and the wolf uses long claws to catch and counter the blows. The alien is wearing something, though. A fingerless glove, almost, leaving their claws out but protecting their palms in layers of metal and leather.  

I hear the ringing of steel on steel, watching the way the wolves are hungrily looking on. The aliens seem strong, physically, but not ignorant of their skills. They are just as intelligent as humanity, or at least reasonably similar, I’m sure. 

Gently, as quietly as I can make it, I reach out to one of them with [Selection]. No one raises an eye. There is no reaction. For now, I just want to observe their chanting, learn their language, but… well, just in case. Just in case, of course. 

Another clash goes by in the blink of an eye. Metal grinds against metal, Opal’s blade knocked aside, and claws coming up to rend them. Mana moves within the wolf, and the other aliens are cheering for it. 

The strike moves faster, suddenly, propelled by some invisible force. Opal just barely brings their blade up, batting it off line, but not before the claws demand their pound of flesh.

Long, scarlet lines bloom on their side, the red contrasting against their dark skin. I watch as my friend, one of the few people I care for, bleeds. Opal steps back, looking at me, and shooting me a smile. Still, imperceptibly, they nod.

I don’t smile. My face remains entirely calm. But despite it, another tendril sneaks out. This time, I probe a wolf at the other side of the circle. No one notices. They all still chant for victory. 

At that, I focus. Richard notices as she stands by me, eyeing the wolves. Watching with all those eyes of hers as a tendril of my mana sneaks out onto the battlefield… and connects to Opal.

I’ve been curious. If my [Suppression] works on pain, what else does it work on? Logically, suppressing pain is a buff, right? Can I suppress fear? Suppress weakness? I try it, just for a second.

My friend’s grimace vanishes as the pain softens. That usage I’m familiar with. I can feel the way the mana twists and turns inside of me, changing to do as I ask it to. It sneaks into Opal, letting them move a bit faster, focus a little bit more. 

I have used it [Suppress] my need for sleep, too, haven’t I. Can I do that on Opal? I try it, and the effect goes through, if a little diminished. But the vestiges of sleep vanish from their face, eyes clearing up just a bit more.

The effects are small, but important. The wolf moves again, blazingly fast, using that skill of its. What level is it, I wonder. Nine? Ten? Does it have a class? How many skills does it have?

Opal has two. And they’ll have to be enough. With me helping, I’m sure we could crush the wolf, but… I look at their face, and they grin. Opal is loving this. I cannot take that away from them. I refuse to.

So, I support them. To the best of my ability. I try my trick of the crappy healing spell, and it’s horrendously weak at a distance. But it stems the bleeding, just a bit. Helps Opal’s muscles, just a bit. A tiny advantage, to help push them over the knife’s edge.

Again, a burst of speed. Opal takes it, deflecting the attack. Then, one moment to the next, the attack comes flying right back at them. 

I’m starting to get the picture. “It’s inertia,” I say. 

Richard looks at me, confused. “What?” she asks, in that childishly raspy voice.

“The wolf. It uses inertia, or controls speed in some variety. It’s first skill lets it speed up. I think the second one is a speed reversal. If it’s multiple skills in the same direction, it has a class, and probably a third skill that is linked to another concept,” I say. It’s as much for her as it is for Opal.

On the cleared space, Opal nods. Their greatsword comes forward, leaving a shallow cut on the wolf’s tough hide. What else could the wolf be able to do? Speed is their specialty, and yet, there is more.

I try to help Opal again, using more mana to [Suppress] their weakness. 

[Suppression 6 > 7]

Or, at least, I try, but it seems that concept is a little too vague.

The skill still works, and takes hold. Opal becomes a little bit stronger, a little bit faster, a little bit more, overall, but it feels horribly inefficient. Like using a bucket of water and pouring it all into a cracked glass, cuz my intent was too unclear.

Still, I learn. My skill becomes more powerful, and Opal just a little faster. They move with grace, learning, growing. Another cut lands on the wolf, and it grows impatient.

I watch as the alien’s mana moves. It spins and shifts, then floods their claws. For just a moment, they turn almost ethereal. One of their arms simply phases through the sword, the other one catching the blade. 

And then, those ghostly claws turn material again, digging into Opal’s chest. Splitting their skin, drawing blood, piercing them- and my friend vanishes. [Blinks].

Suddenly without a target, the wolf steps too far forward in surprise, and Opal doesn’t hesitate. Their sword lashes out, cutting one of the wolf’s legs, deeply. It’s not fatal, but the fight is over when the wound lands.

Opal steps back, wearing a huge grin on their face. “That phasing technique is fucking awesome!” they say. “What was that?”

The wolf looks at them in shock, kneeling. Their other leg no longer supports their weight. The creature opens its maw, snarling, but it’s not in fury. It’s a gesture of respect. The wolves around us howl.

Slowly, the classed alien lowers their head. “You best me,” it- he growls. “As the winner, I grant you my body.”

Opal blinks. “... What?”

Chapter 23: Round of Introductions

It is not much later that we all sit by the fire. Another one of the wolves - the wulven, as we’ve learned - uses that same fireball magic Richard ate before to light a fire. They sit further away in the clearing, keeping a respectful distance.

The leader of the wulven, the one that Opal defeated in an entirely legitimate duel that I never had a hand in at all, sits close-by, legs crossed, politely letting Opal ruffle his fur. “It’s so soft,” they hum for what is certainly not the first time.

Richard smirks at their antics. She sits next to me, watching as I hold my hands above the wulven’s wounds. My mana spins, twists, and I run my mind ragged trying to recreate the healing patterns. I get close, but it’s still too little, too incomplete for a true spell.

But it works, somewhat. A chunk of my mana being hungrily devoured by the construct, knitting a little bit more flesh back together. “Tapped out,” I say, leaning back. The wulven leader, Dar, nods at me, chuffing faintly in gratitude.

In truth, I still have a third of my mana left, but they don’t need to know that.

“Well,” I say. “The wulven have told us what they are like. What about you, Richard?”

The woman turns to me and I am once again struck by the thought that her mandibles look a little cute. Her six eyes look at me with curiosity. “Yes. Information is adequate recompense for a meal,” she says, assuring herself. “And for a friend.”

I nod. “Of course.” 

She nods again, then leans back, thoughtfully. “I am a Hiy’ht.” The sound is a bit hissy, even in the human language, meant to be suitable for their alien mouths. But it’s the best translation the system offers me. “We are small of stature, but grand of civilization. Hive spires that scratch the skies, grand pires to feed all, burrowing and building. We excel at coordination.”

Dar snorts derisively. “I would bet a warrior of mine against you anyday, insect.”

Richard simply smiles at him. “And they would win, mutt. And then, a million more Hiy’ht would come to strip their bones clean.”

At that, Dar shuts his mouth. Opal pats his head. “There there, buddy,” they say. “No need to worry about it too much. We don’t have any reason to fight, right?”

The wulven chuffs in what seems to be a mix of embarrassment, contentment, and amusement. “Sure,” he grows, “other than our eternal honor, and to form bonds.”

“Like we did?” Opal asks.

“Yes,” the wulven nods. “You and I are bonded. To let harm befall you is a stain on my honor. I shall strike down your adversaries, and in gratitude, you will strike down mine.”

“Now kiss,” Sylves teases. 

Opal gives her a long look. Then, slowly they smile, turning to the wulven and planting a kiss on his cheek. Sylves’ teasing smile freezes on her face for just a second. We all wait a few seconds to let the awkward moment drift by.

“Well, then,” Jess says. “So, the wulven are a bit of a warrior-species. And you Hiy’ht live in large colonies, and hold generational grudges.”

Richard smiles a little, though it looks weird, twisting her mandibles upwards. “Essentially, yes.”

“What about humans?” Dar asks. “I can understand the heat-eaters, yet you are mysterious, still. Are you usually gathered?”

Amelie replies to him. “Humans are renowned for gathering in large communities,” she says. “Though often, most of them hardly know about or care for each other. We are remarkably good at exploiting one another for profit, and remarkably good at creating small communities that care strongly for each other.”

At that, Richard lets out a chittering whistle. “What strange critters you are.”

I smile. Yeah, she gets it. Humans really are strange critters. 

“You are one of those tight knit communities, then?” one of Dar’s warriors asks. The fireball-mage one. 

Norman shakes his head. “Not quite. It’s more complex than that. I care about Inu and Jess,” he says, gesturing at his daughter and wife. “Meanwhile, Bay cares more about Thatch. And on and on it goes. We all have our individual bonds, but we’re sticking together. For now,” he adds.

Again, he does seem to get it. He has every right to ditch the group if he wants to. I just don’t think Inu would join him. So, I get to endure his grumbling.

Maybe we need to almost die a few more times before the horror of it sinks in? We’ll see. All in due time.

“Whelp,” Opal says. “Despite how much I love waking and fighting in the middle of the night, I’m gonna catch some more sleep.” They promptly plop their face against Dar’s shoulder. His fur might make a good pillow. Kind of like a service dog.

The wulven, for his part, doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he accepts his duty with pride, having lost the duel. In a totally legitimate fashion that I had no hand in at all. Nope, not me. Surely.

Then, slowly, one by one, everyone goes to sleep. Richard seems least bothered by being awake. “Hiy’ht are diurnal,” she explains. “We’re usually awake at dawn and dusk, sleeping a little in between.”

“Wulven are always vigilant,” Dar says. “We rest parts of our brain in shifts. Usually denoted by pairs of eyes closing.” Some wulven only have two eyes, which probably means they have not gotten to that part yet. So the shift-resting was reserved for those who had advanced far enough to… grow extra eyes?

Dar, for his part, closes his red eyes, leaving the orange ones open, seemingly at peace. The fireball mage does the same, while a few of the smaller wulven seem to just fall asleep like regular people.

I wonder if I’ll also be able to avoid the need for sleep like that. Maybe I can practice in my sleep? If I think of mana enough, I might dream about it. Worth a try, I decide. So, as I close my eyes, I half-meditate and half-rest, focussing my mind on small exercises and spellforms. 

The healing spell eludes me for now, but I’ll be damned if I don’t figure it out soon.

- - -

The night passes, and morning comes. I feel… reasonably rested. Still tired, but not too bad at all. 

When I fell asleep, my thoughts were dedicated to mana, and the same is true when I wake up. My vessel is full, so I instantly use some of it to heal my wounds more. The hole in my shoulder mends a bit, and so does the nasty wound left by the little shadow thing in my side.

I should feed it, I note, sneakily poking a wound into my finger and dropping a little bit of blood into my shadow. There is a small shambling noise, and the liquid vanishes. I wait until the blood stops on its own after a dozen drops.

Dar is looking at me. He tilts his head, as if asking a question, but I just stare at him, blank faced. He smelled the blood, probably. But he doesn’t ask, and I don’t volunteer an explanation.

So, instead, I focus on the mana maze again. I hold it in my hands, and I smile at the sight of the black polish. It’s silly, but I like it. The cube’s shiny metal surface contrasts nicely against my pale hands. Slowly, I push threads of energy through it, making them coil and twist as the inside of the labyrinth shifts. It’s designed so cleverly, little runes and enchantments and levers that I get to push my mana into, and it twists parts of the maze.

Then I strain my perception again to find the path to the next little lever. It’s fun, and I repeat the exercise. It becomes more difficult with each step, too, since the path for me to feed it more mana becomes more complex, and the maze introduces new challenges. 

I enjoy it, toying with it until the others wake up, and a little past that. I continue the exercise while eating breakfast, and while the others chat. “Running low on food,” Bay notes. “We should raid a store soon.”

Slowly, I nod. My clothes are ragged, and I’d like new ones, too. With our current band of people, that shouldn’t be too much trouble. Humans, wulven, hiy’ht, all working together. It’s getting a little crowded for my taste, but that’s fine for now. I’m rather sure we’ll split up later. All I really care about is keeping Inu, Thatch, Opal and Sylves safe.

“Let’s head out, then,” I say, getting up and patting some dirt off me. 

"Halt," one of the wulven says. The fireball-slinging mage, Dar's second in command. "With our leader's new blood-bond in place, he will follow you. But you have not won the loyalty of all of us. The rest has asked me to leave, and seek out our own destiny," he announces.

Dar looks upon the wulven, two dozen staunch warriors, and then simply nods. "Very well," he says. "Tyr shall lead the pack, then. May you all live honorably, and fight beautifully."

The fireball mage, Tyr, apparently, smiles at that, baring his fangs. "Good. We wish you luck, too. May your pack hunt well and eat well."

With those words, he turns around, and rather than heading for the town, Tyr and the wulven streak into the forest, presumably to find something to hunt. I tilt my head a little t the behaviour, but then shrug. I don't see any need to chase after them - our group is plenty big already.

"So. Raiding some grocery stores?" I ask.

“I’d also like some new clothes,” Amelie notes. I look down at myself, then over at her and smile.

“That too, then,” I nod. 

And with that decision made, we head off, back from the forest into the city - despite Sylves’ protests, of course. 

Chapter 24: Shoplifting and Escort

Finding stores to raid isn’t too hard. The city is big, and has plenty of places to buy things. Well, had places to buy things. Now, they’re clearly places to take things from! 

“You’re smiling the creepy smile again,” Inu says.

“Stealing is too fun,” I reply. “Shoplifting is great. Especially when morally correct.”

Our first stop is a grocery store. It’s already half-empty, with people having taken a lot of the medical supplies, canned foods, and, surprisingly, toilet paper. As we enter, there is a group of people in there, too.

“Stop right there,” a man says. “What’re you here for?” he asks, with a goblin axe resting lazily on his shoulder. He replaced the handle with a longer piece of wood, making it almost serviceable for human use. Mine is shorter than his. 

“Food, bandaids, that kinda stuff,” Thatch readily replies. “Just the regular kind of things.”

The guy shakes his head. “Sorry, bud. No dice,” he says. “Me and my boys are setting up base here, see. All this stuff is ours now. You should-” he pauses, as Opal and Dar round the corner. “Holy fuck, what the hell is that?!”

Opal blinks at him. “Oh,” he says. “My wulven friend. We got new species on Earth since last night.” To exacerbate the point, Dar bears his teeth a little, straightening his back to his full height of just about seven-and-a-half feet. 

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit!”

One of the guy’s friends, a woman, walks over, rubbing her eyes. “Dave, what’s the commo- Holy shit,” her eyes widen, too, like saucepans.

“Look,” Thatch says, diplomatically. “We really don’t want any trouble. Just a couple bandages, some water, some food, and we’ll be outta your hair, yeah?”

Dave nods vigorously, suddenly entirely okay with the prospect of sharing resources. “Ah, yeah. Okay. Fuck, man, take what you need. I’m not dealing with your werewolf.”

And with that incredibly helpful bit of assistance, we get to leave the grocery store with backpacks full of dried food. I chew on an apple on my way out, enjoying the fruity flavour after the two days of cereal and stuff.

“Next up? Clothing!” Sylves decrees with great excitement.

I fear she might be bored when she finds they don’t have faerie dresses. Maybe she’ll make her own, despite the apocalypse. Actually, maybe she’s just looking to pick up sewing supplies?

We make our way to a clothing store Bay remembers. I only know about the second hand places I usually checked out. More different clothing meant more chances of finding a fabric that didn’t make me wanna die. 

But going to a bigger place was probably a better choice in this case. So, we raid a clothing store, this one much less occupied than our previous target. I discard a dozen scratchy shirts that make me wanna tear my skin off, before finding an acceptable one. It’s a spaghetti top, which means it shows too much skin, but I’m able to find a jacket that lets me cover my arms and shoulders. We don’t need to care about putting the clothes back properly, but despite that, we all wait our turns, using the changing booths to try things on.

Well, most of us. Opal doesn’t care and just stands in a corner. Their back muscles are nice. I move on rather quickly. Opal also makes Dar try on a shirt, and it looks incredibly funny, squishing their fur. The wulven decides to stick with their traditional clothing, 

Richard, for her part, does find a shirt in the kid’s section. Good for her. It has a teddy bear on it. Sylves rolls her eyes at the 'boring' designs, simply scavenging for something that interests her, pulling discarded pieces apart for salvageable fabric and stuffing it into her backpack.

She also picks up a few tools from the employee area, killing the goblin inside and ignoring the smell of the half-rotting half-dissolving-into-mana human corpse as she swiftly shuts the door again. 

When we leave, people are outside. A small group of them, outfitted with guns. Somehow, that doesn’t seem as scary as before.

Oh, sure, a shot in the head will still kill me, but well. What if I suppress the movement of the hammer? “Thatch, Inu, you’re on diplomacy,” I tell them as we step outside. “No fear.”

“Hey there,” Thatch greets. Loudly, enough for them to notice us, and turn, while we’re still far enough away that they don’t get jumpy or fire. He waves, too. I simply stare at the weapon.

The people turn, controlled, but still afraid. I notice the twitch in their hands. None of the three raise their guns, not yet. A man, barely older than me, steps forward. “Oh, more survivors, good! Always nice to see another human,” he says.

Silently, I [Select] him. Just to be sure. The human comment seems troublesome, since we have Richard and Dar with us. 

“Yeah,” Thatch agrees with a smile. “What are you up to here?”

“Gathering survivors,” the other man readily gives away. “Police is short staffed, so we volunteered. Supposed to bring anyone we find to the safe zone.”

“Safe zone?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah! Mayor set one up. A skill of some kind, apparently. Certified nonviolence.” He smiles. “Come on. Let’s get you out of the danger zone. Dying to a goblin’s a shit fate.”

I like his bluntness, at least. Inu looks at him, playing the hesitating act. I know she’s using [Empathy] to glean his intent, since I have him selected. “How much space is there for people?” she asks.

“Zone expands the more people that join it,” the man says, still wearing that friendly smile. “We’ve got a good bit of water and food, too.”

There is nothing disingenuous about him. He’s not like the blondey from before, he doesn’t smell of blood and oil. In fact, I could even believe that he is genuinely nice. But I don’t trust the mayor. Not even a little bit. Is it worth taking a look, though?

“I dunno,” Thatch says, giving a conflicted grimace. “Our last few run-ins with other humans haven’t been particularly nice.”

At that, the man gives a sympathetic nod. “I hear you. Look. I know that some groups are shitheads about it, but I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do. Would just be a shame for more decent people to get hurt.”

“Lord knows there are enough corpses in the street,” a woman next to him says.

Norman steps out from behind the building. “Alright,” he says. “We’ll come along, take a look at your safe zone.”

The man brightens at that. “Awesome!” he says. “Didn’t notice you, haha. Got any more group members we should wait for?” 

I look at Norman. He looks at me. Okay, then. Fine, Norman, have it your way. This will be a learning experience. If things go wrong, I’ll play janitor, but I’m not babysitting him this time. 

“Just a few,” he says with a smile. The others slowly trickle out of the building, though Dar and Richard, as well as Opal and Sylves are suspiciously absent. Everyone else moves to follow our group of escorts. Let’s see what this safe zone business is about. Let’s see if Norman gets his face kicked in.

I kinda hope he does.

Chapter 279: Magic

Chapter 279: Magic

/There are mountains beyond the mountains. There are skies beyond the skies.

There is no perfection. There is no pinnacle.

To cultivate is to challenge the heavens, but more than that, it is to challenge yourself.

Grow for the sake of growth. Want for the sake of wanting. Be greedy. Be selfish. Be kind. Indulge.

And seek out the heights as far as you can go. 

Life is a climb. So reach as high as you can. For your own sake./

- Central idea of cultivation.

- - - - - -

“I heard there’s a new monster on the loose,” someone whispered. 

“Well I heard that he wears a robe like a hurricane, pants as dark as nightmares, and a veil that hides his face, because he is too hideous to be looked at!” someone else added.

“Bah, you know nothing. He hides his face for it is too handsome for mortals. If anyone witnessed it, they would die from a heart attack!” someone else said, slapping the table in the bar and making drinks jump. 

The door to the inn swung open, and a tall stranger walked in. He was handsome, with fire-red hair, and eyes that burned with passion, all wreathed in an impeccable white suit, unstained of the dirt that comes with travelling. A single look could drive one mad, if they were inclined towards the masculine. 

In fact, a handful of men and women did faint. The handsome man was soon followed by a stranger, shorter than him, wearing a veil. His robes were a stark white that blurred around the edges, and his pants a shiny black of metal, yet they flowed smoothly with every step. Around his face, there was a veil.

Talk in the bar quieted for a while, even as the third member of the motley group, a girl that was a few years into her adulthood, caught up with them. She was panting, holding her legs as soon as she stormed in, and the handsome man threw her a wry glance.

“You’re still here,” he said. His voice was neutral, and people stared as he talked. Was this his daughter? She had none of his hair or features. An apprentice perhaps. “Can you like… stalk someone else?” Then he waved his hand a few times, in a shooing motion.

Instantly, people stared harder. A stalker? Who’d dare to bother someone of such magnificent beauty?! It was an affront to all of society that she’d dare! To someone older than her too! My, that girl must be mad!

Already, a few bargoers got up to toss the girl out, but the man in the veil just chuckled. “Word choice, Zyl. We don’t dictate anyone’s paths.” And then, with those words, he sat down at a table. 

Again, eyes drifted from the fiery-haired man to the veiled one. Their gazes lingered for long, stretched moments. Could it be? Surely not. Many wore veils, and his robes looked too mundane. His pants were not terrifying.

… But… it was always better to not bother a monster. 

Impostor or not, they were cultivators. That much was clear. Obvious, even. They carried no weapons, and yet, every single person in that room knew, without a doubt, that they were cultivators. It was a vital skill as a mortal to learn who could kill you and who couldn’t - that’s why threat detection skills were so common in the east.

It took only a moment for the waitress to approach their table, and not a single soul in that restaurant complained. Except for the man in the veil. Even as Mira sat down, he simply waved a dismissive hand. “Do not hurry for us,” he asked. “Simply treat us as everyone else.”

Instantly, the waitress bowed. “Of course, esteemed sir,” she said quietly, then hurried off. One did not dare question the request of a hidden master. 

Whispers slowly blossomed, like a flower in spring. They spread through the bar, yet no one dared to voice them too loudly. And yet, people were people. Even the fear of death could curb their talks only for so long.

They talked. Slowly but surely, one by one, conversations restarted. The strangers ordered simple drinks, and the girl laid her head on the table tiredly. The man in the veil simply stared ahead, unbothered by anything. In fact, even the whispers seemed to leave him unbothered, his mind elsewhere entirely, his drink untouched.

Perhaps, in front of his face, there was a screen?

[<Oceanic Consciousness> has met the necessary qualifications for evolution. Evolve? (800 Skill points)]

Mercury smiled faintly at the notification. “Confirm,” he said.

[Evolution confirmed. Engaging. Please pick an option to evolve the Skill into. The price will be the same (800 Skill points), no matter which you choose.]

[1. <Tsunami of Thought>

2. <Vassal Vessel>

3. <Mindbloom>

4. <Dredge>]

What an intriguing set of options. Mercury looked them over one by one.

[<Tsunami of Thought>: The user’s mind is like the ocean. Water withdraws. The longer it rests, the greater the force. Your mind will begin passively storing energy, nearly limitlessly, which can be released all at once to compute a complex problem, before needing to once again store energy. Minor warning for potential brian damage due to overacceleration.]

What a strange skill. Mercury smiled slightly at it. It was interesting, an intriguing change to his current consciousness, which simply let him dive deeper. It also continued the ocean-theme, which told him it was a reasonably direct follow-up to what he had before. But he wasn’t fully sold.

[<Vassal Vessel>: Turn your thoughts into a tool. With this Skill, you gain the ability to create permanent sub-routines, pseudo-instances of your own self that will complete any task assigned to them without any load being applied to the main consciousness. Delegate your work and harvest the fruits.]

This one rankled him a little. It felt almost like turning parts of himself to the subordinates of other parts of himself. Would he really make himself his own subordinate after finally escaping an office job? Absolutely not.

[<Mindbloom>: This Skill comes with no immediate benefits. The user’s mind will remain as if the evolution had never happened - however, it is granted a passive growth modifier. Every experience and memory the user forms after gaining this skill will further strengthen their mind. Water yourself with memories in the soil of experience.]

Yet again, the system offered him something with a caveat. The skill had no direct buff. Which seemed rather strange from an evolution. Instead, it promised him limitless, passive growth. Which seemed rather delicious. His mind was already growing stronger with training, and this would only enhance that process.

[<Dredge>: Never forget. Your mind becomes a true ocean, memories like treasure in the water. Anything you experience will be saved permanently, though ideas will become dim. This Skill allows you to additionally dredge up any old experience, and apply it to the current situation. Time required for dredging based on time passed since memory elapsed.]

His final option was another one with an ocean theming, and its functions seemed focused on storage, mostly. Remembering everything with the caveat of seeking it out was nice. A little bit like a mind palace, except as treasure in the ocean. It did feel a little… alienating from who he was, though.

Mercury smiled at the options. His Skill choices seemed to really be turning more bizarre. All of these had some kind of “gimmick”, now. But they were fun gimmicks, largely. Looking at you, <Vassal Vessel>. In the end, though, it came down to a simple fact:

He didn’t need a massive improvement right now, or a massive change to how he ticked. Instead, letting himself naturally grow based on his experiences seemed far more pleasant - and promised the highest ceiling in the future. Further evolutions along that line also seemed like they’d be exceedingly promising.

Without any significant threat, he could focus on his own growth, and selfishly strive for the highest point he could reach. And so, he made his choice.

[Evolution selected.]

[The individual has acquired the Skill <Mindbloom lv. 1> through Skill evolution!]

Having settled that, Mercury didn’t feel any immediate change to himself, just as the Skill promised. Instead, there was a gentle pulling sensation at the back of his head. Like he was just the tiniest bit sore. It quickly faded into the background, barely even noticeable, but distinctly there.

By the time he was done, he already had his food in front of him. When he turned with a small rustle of fabric, Zyl just shot him a wink. Smiling softly, Mercury ate his meal quietly, with Mira by his side slurping down some noodles.

Apparently, him showing up her family as much as he did had given her some new interest in life. She now wanted to see the world. And be his apprentice. Which he politely turned down, because he was by no means suited to teach anyone about cultivation. Really, he didn’t even know what it was about. Mercury wasn’t a cultivator.

But he probably would be one, soon. An amateur, but with how many scrolls he had on techniques, it would be a waste not to use them. So, he was slowly making his way through them, and beginning to understand cultivation and its realms. Though it did all feel a little… arbitrary to him.

Well, that was true for any power system, he supposed. The Godseeker’s Guild also had their ranks, and those were a little… he hesitated to say pointless, but there certainly was more nuance to it than that. As of right now, Mercury had trounced cultivators without even being one himself.

Judging himself by the standard of these lands, he would probably be something of a “magus” or a “sorcerer”. Someone who used a different power system to conjure up effects similar to that of cultivation - a system that was far less categorised around here.

He certainly wasn’t a “mortal”. After all, he stepped into the martial world without hesitation. Mercury had learned as much a while ago. Anyone could try to kill him, these days, and he was even willing to forgive them. After all, he was an entirely calm and reasonable person. Most of the time.

Sighing softly, Mercury let the thoughts go and took a bite of his food, then another. He finished it quickly, feeling it fuel his body. <Assimilation> had slowly but surely grown a lot of bio-parts in its storage, and he could, by now, easily swap those in for the bits of him that were made from ice and wood. But he didn’t.

Because, frankly, it was easier to envision him as something puppeteering an almost human body, rather than a proper human. It’d been too long since he was that. And, frankly, while he had happy memories, he also felt powerless as one. 

This was more like him. Divorcing himself from that powerless past, and finding freedom. Yes, he left behind a few precious things, like his fond memories, but he was still himself. And the distance from who he was gave him distance from his scars. 

Taking a deep breath, he turned to Mira, just as her mouth opened to speak. “No, I’m not teaching you anything,” he said calmly, and saw her face twist in a frown. “No, I won’t send you home. You’re free to follow me around. But I won’t be super considerate of you. So, uh, don’t get stranded in the wilderness and starve.”

At that, she huffed. “I am still a cultivator, you know?” she asked. Instantly, the bar erupted in more whispers. It was obvious, but hearing someone’s apprenticeship being denied so obviously was a curious thing. “I won’t starve. I’ll keep up. I won’t slow you down.”

Mercury waved a hand with a soft sigh. “Do as you want,” he said. Then, he turned to his food and ate. And then, he asked the owner of the establishment if they knew where the Skyflame Monks lived. Of course, he didn’t receive an answer. He didn’t expect one from a roadside inn like this one, but he left it be. 

Instead, he just thanked the old woman, gave her a coin as a token of thanks, and asked if she needed any repairs done in exchange for a room for the night. An exchange was swiftly brokered - she had a centuries old baking dish made from cold iron, to make sure that all the heat went to the food and it was easy to serve.

Coincidentally, Mercury had enough to spare of the material to fix her tray easily, and with a priceless heirloom restored, she was happy to let him stay as long as he wanted to. With room and board secured, Mercury did what he did best: he went to bed.

It was just approaching the morning hours, and frankly, that meant he was uninterested in being awake. Sighing softly, he took off his veil, and placed the head to rest on a chair. Zyl smiled and softly caressed his face, as they pulled down the curtains to block out the sun. It had a habit of burning Mercury these days, so he was becoming a bit of a night-owl.

Not that he did nothing during the day. Even when he slept, it was usually only part of his mind. He rested passively, and as his mind blossomed, that wouldn’t even be necessary anymore. Instead, Mercury spent his time… meditating.

It wasn’t properly meditating, not really, but he was thinking. He’d change his position, hang upside down from chairs, do handstands, pace across the room, and twist and turn in bed, but he’d think. On… everything, really. All the things that he knew, that he understood about the world. About what made it all come together. 

So many thoughts swirled about his head these days. About people, about elements. He understood grass, he’d healed some scars in this world, he’d grown strong, and there was reason to grow stronger still. But he wanted more strength, too. Because in this world, strength was freedom, and there was more that he wanted to see.

Until now, the east had been fun to explore. He was really hoping to find more hidden monsters - but he was sure it would come in due time. They must have interesting experiences, after all. That was the most neat part of the journey until now. Seeing just hoe people lived here.

What everyone valued. With how much abandon they threw themselves at their passions, be they mortals or cultivators. They fought over scraps of honor, duelled to the death over an insult. They’d toss their family and run after a stranger for only the potential of stealing an insight. They fought over noodles and family legacy and pride.

And they lived.

It was what he respected most. They lived. All of them were so very invested in chasing their own pride, their own happiness. To have an achievement that generations would look back on. Legacy, Mercury supposed, was big here. 

Sighing softly, he asked the <Wind> to carry him up, then used his <Ancient Shadowweaving> to glue himself to the ceiling, laying on it as if it was the floor. And he wondered. What was legacy to him? Did he care if he was remembered? By whom? Did he want… kids?

That answer at least came easily enough - no. He didn’t want kids. He was happy living his own life. He wanted freedom above anything, and that mattered. If he wanted to abandon people, he would. Kids didn’t deserve that kind of fate. It was selfish, but Mercury could accept being a little bit selfish. Independence was important to him.

So, did he care about legacy?

Again, he found that the answer was no. His life was his own. If people forgot, then he would let them forget. He lived for his own joy, his own desires, to see things he wanted to see, and help people he wanted to help. At heart, Mercury thought that life was beautiful. That there should be more of it, and less of death. And realizing that was, in a way, his legacy.

But he wasn’t doing it to be remembered by whom he saved, or what he changed. He did it because it made people smile. Because he could. Because the problems were in his path, and seeing people sad was annoying. It got on his nerves when someone complained or fucked up their life, so he fixed it where he could.

Ah, he’d drifted off. Smiling softly, Mercury dropped from the ceiling. For a moment, his robe sprouted wings, dampening the noise of his fall to a whisper. Zyl was still sleeping, after all. And the dragon was a rather light sleeper. Sometimes, when Mercury wanted to do something more loud, he’d don the Stifled Silence, just to not bother his boyfriend.

What was more fun than using unique magical artefacts for mundane purposes?

Mercury lingered on that thought for a while. The difference between what was magical and what was mundane… it was kind of thin, wasn’t it? In a lot of ways, it was funny to imagine, but he had used a lot of his magic as almost disability aids.

Telekinesis because he lacked hands. Shapeshifting to be less obvious in a crowd, like a transplant. The Stifled Silence to get a good night’s sleep. Eating-related Skills just so he could enjoy spices again. So much of his build was dedicated to just letting him go places, understand things.

Was that really the truth of magic? That it was… what exactly?

He laid on the floor, crossing his arms behind his head, thinking it over while listening to Zyl’s breathing. What was magic? Like, the very essence of it. At its core. 

There was no good, instant answer, so Mercury went the opposite route. Stripping things away. 

Did something need to be powerful to be magical? Not particularly. Did it need to be flashy? No. Did it need to make people happy? No. It didn’t need to be spectacular or big. It didn’t even need to break the laws of the world. Magic was in quiet moments, in happiness, in someone doing more than they could do before.

Was magic growth, then? 

No, he didn’t think so. Growth was too personal to be magic. It was linked, in a way, but not the same. So what was it? What, exactly, was magic? 

Was his rigorous understanding of mana and transmuting it into ice “magic”? The system clearly labelled it as such. But then, was his vibe-based understanding of metal or grass not magic? Was it not magic to ask the wind to carry him upwards, to weave his own shadows?

No, that was magic, too. Maybe that was it, then. That magic was wonderful. And that magic was mundane.

It was a contradiction, but that was okay. Mundane things could be wonderful, and in this world, there was magic everywhere. There was magic in how he walked, how he talked, how he grabbed things, how the wind moved, how the grass reacted. It was, all of it, magic.

And that was kind of cool.

[You have acquired the Ability <Magic (lowest)> through fusion. Fused Skills and Abilities:  <Ancient Shadowweaving (medium)>, <Fire (medium)>, <Grass (high)>, <Ice Magic lv. 7>, <Metal (lowest)>, <Stone (lowest)>, <Water (low)>, <Wind (low)>]

He blinked at it, then summoned the Stifled Silence, and then he laughed. 

<Magic>. Just magic. A single ability for all of it, apparently. For all of his understandings of the most mundane and structured things of the words. Of all the “elements”. He laughed, in the domain of silence, letting Zyl get his rest, and he stared at the ceiling.

Mercury spent the rest of the day with a big grin on his face. The moment was, pun fully intended, magical. So he let it linger.

- - -

“Really? Just <Magic>?” Zyl asked with a snicker. “That’s a little simplified.”

“You’re just jealous, cuz all your fire-resistance Skills aren’t properly fused,” Mercury teased, sticking his tongue out. It wasn’t particularly visible underneath his veil, but he still did it. They were having breakfast, right now, with Mercury occasionally sneaking bites of the food to his shadow, where Juno greedily devoured it. 

Mira shot his shadow worried looks for a second, until she caught a glimpse of the grey wolf-head. Then, she made a very concerted effort to not step into Mercury’s shadow at all. He shook his head at her antics. Juno was entirely sweet and kindhearted. Right? Right.

She’d only asked if he wanted their… “burden” removed about three or four times. And she’d stopped asking when he’d told her to! Like him, she too was a polite and reasonable person.

“Where are we heading next?” Zyl asked, between bites of food.

Mercury thought for a second, then decided to make use of the resources at his disposal. “Mira, where is the nearest most powerful sect you can imagine?” he asked.

The girl turned at having her name called, and gave a weak smile. “Well,” she said. “This is the border territory between the Cult of the Infernal Flame and the Burning Bull sect. Though, in this comparison, I’d say the Cult is more powerful,” she explained neutrally. “Of course, the Cult is full of murderers and cutthroats. So, we should be wary of them when visiting the Burning Bull sect.”

“Splendid,” Mercury said with a smile. “We’ll set off for the Cult of the Infernal Flame come nightfall.”

Mira froze, then stared at him. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I-”

“No, no,” he replied, waving his hand. “You heard me right. I’m curious to see how those cults work. The righteous sects have been a bit disappointing, so maybe these ‘evil’ cults will be better.”

“They’re not,” she assured him, pale-faced. “They really, really aren’t.”

Zyl snickered at her response, then gave her a bright grin. “Well. Regardless of whether they are or aren’t, I know my boyfriend. And I think he’s about to make that his problem.”

Mercury smiled happily. “Indeed,” he said. Because, in a way, solving problems was magical, too. And, well, he was curious.

Magic Breaker Ch 19-21

Chapter 19: Field Surgery

CW: Gore

The way we end up defeating the slimes is with Jess’ help.

She freezes them using her skill, turning the critters into little more than blobs of ice. Then, they don’t explode when killed. I stomp another one of them into angry ice cubes.

[You have killed a lv. 2 Slime]

Thatch leads on and we follow.

Slowly, the sun sets. Nighttime doesn’t come fast, really. It feels like the sun is clinging onto the sky, but its time is running dry. We still haven’t found Sylves, but we are heading the right way. 

Worst case, we’ll camp the night here. I think Norman and Bay might not be very happy with it but… well, they might need to get used to it. It doesn’t seem likely for us to camp in nice, comfortable beds all the time for the near future.

How many points in heart before the ground gives against my skin, I wonder? How much power before walls become suggestions? Well, I don’t really care about those two as much.

I move around the mana puzzle in my hands, twisting and turning it as I add more magic from my vessel into it. It makes me move it around, spin it around the maze’s twists and turns, while keeping it in thin threads.

It’s difficult, but a fun exercise. Every time I fail, I waste some energy, but the task is so delicate, it takes hardly any mana at all. I still work to solidify more of it, too, but it’s dissipating a little too fast. I need to keep my current stash of grains constantly filled with a part of my regeneration.

Add in the part of me that focuses on suppressing the damn parasite burrowing through my flesh, and my ongoing practice with the healing spell whenever I save up enough energy… well, suffice to say, I’ve been greedily tapping most slime cores we’ve come across.

My thoughts are interrupted when Thatch stops. “We’re here,” he says. The location he’d marked, then. Where he’d seen Sylves.

She’s not here anymore, of course. None of us have tracking skills, either. I can feel a faint, tiny difference in the mana in the air, but it’s far too small for me to describe, let alone follow. Instead, we’re just kinda left standing there.

“What now?” Amelie asks.

Her question makes sense, really. It does. And she isn’t asking out of malice, just curiosity. I need to find Sylves, so how do we find her? 

“It feels a little silly, but we could try just yelling really loudly,” Inu suggests.

I blink. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“What if we draw in more monsters?” Norman hisses. “We’ve only seen slimes, but there’s no way to know if those are the only things here.”

“Then we kill them,” Opal says casually, waving a hand. 

At that, he frowns, but remains quiet. I think they want a class, too. All of them probably do. Maybe it’s finally sunk in that being weak is as good as a death sentence in this world.

I wonder, for just a minute, if there will be another change tonight. Dungeons and lifted limits after the first day. Would the next change happen now, or after a week, or after a month?

Inu draws a deep breath of air into her lungs, then screams, as loudly as she can. “SYLVES!!!”

It makes my ears hurt a little. Must’ve been socializing too much, recently. We all hold our breath and wait, but there doesn’t seem to be a reply. I wish I could just text her, but my phone really has become not much more than a fancy mp3 player.

Not that I mind. I like music. As there isn’t an answer, I slowly sink to the ground, leaning against a tree. “Let’s call it a day,” I say. 

There aren’t any complaints. Everyone pulls out a bit of food and water from backpacks, eating dried and preserved things and washing them down. I turn on my headphones, and they connect with a beep, and I start playing music.

I close my eyes, and the world fades into silence.

For just a little bit, I feel serene.

Then that fucker in my abdomen squirms and starts nibbling on my ribs again. 

I hate it. The feeling is disgusting. I’ve been ignoring it, pushing it all aside, and I was very good at that, but right now, when it stopped me while taking a breather? That was too much.

Causing me pain and suffering I can tolerate, but not respecting my personal space? That’s where I draw the line.

“Gonna use the toilet for a sec,” I announce, getting up. “Be right back.”

And then I walk into the forest.

It’s darker, now. I might have nodded off for a moment to the music. I don’t care. The little fucker had done it. So, I walk into the darkness, below the leaves. There are no city lights here, no fireflies, nothing.

The silence is heavy and oppressive and I do not care. I pause my music, putting the headphones around my neck. I’m far enough away now. None of my friends would hear or see this.

I take a breath.

Four skills. [Selection], [Suppression], [Solidification], and [Deconstruction]. Those are my tools. My logic gates. The operations at hand that I can use on my environment and the thing inside me, alongside the botched healing spell, too shitty to even be recognized by the system. 

[Selection] is the one I use first, activating it on the thing. A tether connects me to it, and I can feel the way it rummages around inside me, almost as if it knows what is coming. It hurts, but that’s fine. I let the tether settle, making sure it’s properly in place, and focus.

[Suppression] comes down next. It triggers, slamming into the thing and turning it slow, sluggish. I can almost ignore it, but not quite. Its slimy exterior is still worming around in there. Writhing, struggling against my hold. It’s gorged itself.

Then, I lift my shirt. 

It’s in tatters. Stained with blood, and full of cuts, but still mostly covers me, which I’m grateful for. I don’t enjoy showing too much skin, generally. Now, though, I lift it, to see that there is a splotch of darkness showing beneath my flesh. It looks like a big bruise, a nasty, darkened patch of skin, but it moves under there. It’s alive. 

My suppression knits itself tighter, until I can barely see the squirming anymore. I take a deep breath, and take one of the goblin knives.

The blade is made from some kinda sharpened rock, maybe obsidian. Surgeons use that for scalpels, right? Surely this shouldn’t be a problem. Probably. Surely.

I use one of the cleaner ones, bringing its tip up against my scabbed skin, the thin gash where the creature had snuck into me.

And I slice myself open.

The pain is fast and burning. It’s not too bad, but I don’t have the focus to suppress it, so I simply accept the way it burns. I hiss quietly, breathing through my teeth. It would get worse, still, but that’s fine.

Part of my mind focuses on my solidified mana needles. I take one of them between my fingers, pinching it tightly, and squeezing it. Reshaping it.

[Solidification 3 > 4]

The thing becomes thinner, denser. Until it’s not much bigger than a tack. Then, I push it under my skin. 

Again, it hurts, but I ignore it. When my fingers can’t get it any further in, I push against the mana with my mind. It obeys, as it always does, slowly sinking deeper into my body. Through barely healed tissue, into the cavern carved out by the parasite. 

The inky thing tries to writhe, but my will clamps down around it. The needle presses into it, stabbing stygian flesh. It struggles, it fights, it tries to hammer against my skin and escape, eat its way out. And I [Suppress] it. Brutally. Over and over, my mind slams into it. Until the cage is woven so tightly it can’t move.

[Suppression 5 > 6]

My needle sinks into it. There’s a smoky darkness that tries to eat at it, tries to dissolve my skill, but it’s tight. I feed it a steady trickle of mana, keeping the tack alive, even as the thing tries to dispel it.

And then, it sinks in. Ethereal darkness parts to reveal inky flesh. It’s squishy, but the needle sinks in. How ironic is that? A piece of me, inside it, inside me again. Like a russian nesting doll.

I focus again, making a second tack. And a third. And a fourth. Until I am all out of solidified mana.

By then, my vessel stat feels low. I have been feeding all those bits of solidified mana more power to keep them going inside the thing’s body. They wanna fall apart, but I don’t let them, not yet. Not yet.

Only when the final one pierces the parasite, do I detonate them all.

My mana floods it, breaks into it, crashes into its mana and dispells it. The darkness the thing seems to ooze abates, suddenly no longer sustainable. I drain it, its resources evaporating as they clash against mine. 

My will clamps even tighter around it, not even letting it wriggle in pain. I know it must fucking suck to be in its position right now, but that’s fine. This is just the start of it. 

When the effect abates, when my needles have exhausted its resources, disabled its skills for a moment, I play my last card.

Mana spins into a spiral within my chest, forming a tool. [Deconstruction]. It’s a wonderful skill, I think, meant to destroy, take apart, and understand. I can choose to focus on different bits of that, and right now, I want to break the parasite. I want to tear it to pieces.

The skill begs me for a target. I give it one.

Chapter 20: Fast Friends

It fucking suffers. 

I’m sure of that much. I know it. My mana spins up to speed, whirring and hissing as it shoots forward into the monster. It grinds against its outer shell, against its insides, against its very nature as I pick it apart.

[Class up! Deconstructor 2 > 3]

Another point of vessel slightly restocks my reserves, and I pour all of it into [Deconstruction] immediately. The battlefield is now a tug of war. The parasite wants to keep existing, and I want it dead. 

[Deconstruction 2 > 3]

[Class up! Deconstructor 3 > 4]

Bits and pieces are stripped away from the parasite, and a tiny bit of their meaning is revealed to me. Tidbits about malleability, about shadows, mostly. I remember them, but I don’t let up. I wield [Deconstruction] like a grindsaw, tearing the thing to bits. Cut by cut, moment after moment.

Until its mana runs dry.

The little fucker is still alive. I grit my teeth. My mana is dead out, and I’ve almost killed it, but it’s still alive. 

It’s dimished. So much smaller. A little splotch of ink, compared to the parasite it was before. The bits of it that have been carved off are turned into nothing more than memories and smoke. Purple and black haze that leaks from the cut in my side. 

I pull at it a little, letting the gas escape faster. “If you get out right now, I’ll consider keeping you,” I tell the parasite. Not that it should understand me. And yet.

The little parasite crawls out of me.

That does surprise me a little, my eyes widening a tiny bit. Maybe if [Selection] can tell me things about a target, then that tether works both ways? 

My side is in terrible shape. The thing slithers out of my open wound, widening the gash even more, and a slough of gas leaves after it. But once it’s out, I don’t feel angry at it anymore.

It invaded my personal space. I made it pay. Now?

The little critter detaches from my side, falling to the forest floor with a pop. My mana is in crappy condition. I would love some extra to cast my botched healing, close up the wound, but I have none. Bits of it are still regenerating. Maybe in a few minutes I could squeeze out a healing spell.

But for now, I look at the little once-parasite. It just kinda sits on the forest floor, munching on some grass. [Selection] still connects us. I tilt my head a little. “Can you do a spin?”

No reaction. 

“Make some noise.” 

Nothing. 

“Hmmm. Guess I can only communicate general sentiment. Say. I’ll feed you if you listen to me.”

It perks up at feed. Seems it gets that.

Very carefully, I hold out a hand to it. Pitiful dregs of mana have gathered in my vessel, barely enough for anything at all, but I can cast perhaps the weakest [Suppression]. I do just that, making sure to numb my pain.

The critter approaches and eats some of me. First, bits of my fingernail that I don’t feel at all, and pieces of dead skin. Then, the uppermost layer of living skin. That one starts to hurt. It drinks a bit of my blood, too, and I don’t particularly mind.

[The Creeping Darkness is shocked at your actions.]

I raise my gaze to the sky. Those words alone make it almost worth it. I look at the critter, and pull my finger back. It lets go. 

“You know, we might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I can see us being friends.” This way, someone is getting something out of my healing practice. Do I care about the thing? Not really. But that’s okay. I can still take care of it.

“Can you hide in my shadow?” I ask.

The critter responds to shadow, too. It turns into a dark blotch against the ground, infinitely thin. When it slithers closer to me, it and the darkness of the forest become one. “Neat,” I say, keeping the tether of [Selection] active. Using it to communicate. How nice.

[Selection 5 > 6]

With that level, I take a few more minutes to regain my breath. My mana regenerates. I cast a botched heal, a pathetic thing that is still better than any of my previous attempts, and it seals my wound shut. I feel blood collecting inside it, though, so I have to poke a hole to let it out.

It’s gross, but whenever the crimson liquid drips onto my shadow, it vanishes. Is this recycling? Probably. Maybe. I smile at the silly joke.

With the wound mostly sealed, I raise myself up off the floor. I feel filthy, but it’s still better than before. Plus, I have more pieces of spells or skills to dissect, memorizing the ones that my attack on the critter has brought me. More magic to do. 

Despite the pain, I smile, slowly stumbling back to camp. 

[Level Up! 10 > 11]

Another supremacy level. I blink. Did I… tame the shadow thing? Defeating it seems to have been enough to be acknowledged for my supremacy. I showed the system I’m worth more than the parasite, to some degree.

Regardless, this time, two points go to vessel, refilling my mana a little, and one point to heart. I observe the healing process as much as I safely can, then adjust my mimicry of it a bit, healing it from the inside out, this time.

My eyes bleed a little, but it’s not trouble, surely.

When I come back to the camp, the others have a small fire going. Thatch notices me first. “Holy shit,” he says.”

Then, Inu sees me. “Holy shit,” she says.

I tilt my head. [Suppression] is still running on the pain so it’s not that bad. Plus, the healing has already patched me back up a bunch.

“Snow, you look horrible,” Opal says. 

“... You won’t believe me if I say it was a very intense toilet trip?” I ask. They shake their heads. “Worth a try.”

“What happened?” Jess asks. She seems… worried about me? 

“There was a parasite under my skin since yesterday,” I say. “I took it out.”

“There was a what?!” Norman yells. 

I tilt my head. “There was a parasite under my skin, Norman.”

“You little-! And you didn’t think to tell us?!” 

“Please talk a little more quietly, I’m getting a bit of a headache,” I say, sliding down and leaning against a tree. The bark pokes into my back, but it’s tolerable. Better than nothing to rest against. I drink some water as Inu’s dad seems ready to strangle me. “I told Inu and Thatch,” I say.

At that, he seems halfway placated, and halfway more angry. He turns to his daughter. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I-” she starts, but he interrupts her.

“What if it had taken Snow over? What then? What if something had come crawling out of there, ready to eat us all up? In our sleep?” he snaps.

Thatch leans forward. “Snow said it was handled.”

Norman throws his hands into the air. “And what if Snow’d been wrong, Thatch? What then?”

“Then we’d deal with it,” Opal says. Then, they yawn. “If Snow fucks up, I’ll do cleanup. So will Inu and Thatch. So will Sylves, once we find her. And so should you.”

“Should I?” the man snaps, leaning forward. “Really? I’ve been dragged around by you for two days now. Killing goblins, luring armors, getting acid slime splattered over me. I’m sick of it!”

At that, Jess looks at him. Norman tries to talk again, to yell some more, but the words stay stuck in his throat. Jess just looks at him, for a long moment, Norman’s body frozen. “Love,” she says, patiently taking one of his hands in hers. “Listen to yourself. You’re talking as if this will be over tomorrow.”

Gently, she shakes her head. “I don’t think it will. I think this is our new normal. I think Inu has the right idea of it. We need a group, we need classes, we need strength.”

“Jess, I-” Norman starts, but she shakes her head.

“This isn’t about you, right now,” she says, whisper-quiet. “The world is scary. I want to keep our daughter safe.”

Finally, he shuts up. Norman drops his head into his hands. “Fuck,” he says. “Fucking shit.”

Somewhat amusingly, I note that we’ve gone full circle. I come back to being told I look like shit, and now Norman is cursing again. How silly.

Seconds tick by quietly, turning to minutes. Opal yawns again. “Whelp,” they say, “I’mma sleep. Wake me in a few hours or if a wolf tries to eat my legs. Also if it’s something other than a wolf,” they add. “I thought I should specify.”

Just as their head hits the ground, though, a breeze tousles through my hair. It leaves my forehead a little itchy, with the telltale sensation of mana. 

“Hello?” a voice comes from the distance. “I heard someone yell about a person called Snow. I think we might be friends. Do you know where to find them?”

I recognize the sound carrying on the wind, and smile. 

“Come and join us, Sylves.”

Chapter 21: Forest Sprite

“You are my Snow!” Syvles chirps. 

The girl hops, skips, and almost floats into our clearing. She’s wearing a dress shaped like leaves. Some kinda cosplay, maybe? It even has fairy wings sewn in at the back. There’s a wreath of flowers around her head, and her blonde hair has a touch of green in it, floating lightly in the air.

Her earthy brown eyes turn towards me with an earnest smile. “Gosh, Snow! Could you have stopped causing trouble for even a moment?” she asks, hopping up to me. “You smell like blood! Fairies like me hate iron, you know?!” 

The words are equal parts accusatory and playful. I smile at her, looking at the petite girl in front of me. She’s just over a meter and a half tall, and rather thin, but very fast. She smells of flowers and moss, sporting long, blonde hair with streaks of faint green. “Hi Sylves,” I say.

She leans forward, her legs casually hovering above the ground. “Hmmmm? You’re barely even surprised, Snow!”

I nod. “Seems it.”

Her lips turn into a pout. “Hmph! You’re a boring bore.”

Again, I nod. “You caught me. Now, will you leave this bore to bleed out?”

Frustrated, she turns to Opal. “You! Be surprised!” Then to Thatch. “You! How’d you find me?” Then to Inu. “And you! You’re uh… I ran out of words!” Then she pouts again. 

Opal yawns. “You’re really going all in on the fairy shtick, huh?” they ask.

For the first time, Syl breaks character. She smiles, just faintly. “Was there ever any doubt?”

Opal shakes their head, smiling. “I suppose not, no.”

“Yes,” Sylves says. “Of course I’m going all in. I get to control the wind with my skills. And a bit of plants. I’m gonna grow a set of wings, too!” 

“Based,” Thatch says. “Have you been eating?”

“Oh right. I should do that. You got any food?” she asks.

I pass her a bag of dried fruit, and she chomps down on them. Things quiet down a little. They’re peaceful.

No parasite under my skin, all my friends gathered around where I can see them. The world might be ending. There might be species out there looking to kill me, looking to show the system that they’re worth more than me. There might be all sorts of dangers for my friends.

It’s calm. They talk, they joke, they get tired and fall asleep. I take a moment to redo the paint on my nails as they chat. It’s mundane, and vain, but I’m glad I stole the polish from Inu’s bathroom. Eventually, though, when all my friends are slumbering, I can feel my own eyes starting to get heavy. Jess notices first. “Go sleep,” she says. “I’ll keep a lookout.”

Not that I trust her, but still. It’s necessary. I need rest. My mind is worn out and tired. I’ll sleep lightly, and set my mind to wake up before midnight. It doesn’t need to be accurate entirely, but it should be good enough.

And then, slowly but surely, I drift off to sleep.

- - -

My mind snaps back awake. I feel the change in the world, the mana growing denser. It’s the same as the first night, and darkness creeps in. It’s thick as tar and pitch black. I can’t see the clearing or any of my friends anymore. 

[Congratulations!]

[You have survived the second stage of descent! Third stage of descent imminent.]

I look at the menus, knowing they’ll disappear after tonight. The third stage. Is it the final one? How many are there, I wonder. What’s the final stage? 

[Essence compatibility modification applied. Initializing instance synchronisation.]

The world shakes and twists again, changing in some fundamental way. Instance synchronisation… It sounds like there have been multiple apocalypses running simultaneously? Maybe in multiple places? And now they are merging.

I brace, feeling as a titanic grip takes hold of our world, and something shifts. I feel like two, three, four versions of myself are squashed together into some kind of meatball abomination - then I spring back into a human shape. 

My teeth feel sticky, but it’s okay. It’s over. The sensation is gone. I swallow down the horror of the situation, and watch as the darkness recedes, revealing our camp.

The fire has gone out, leaving flickering embers. Jess looks at it with wide open eyes, shocked by the notification. Instead of that, I swipe my gaze around. Instance Synchronisation, plus the feeling of multiple bodies being squished into mine definitely makes me think of some kind of merging.

And then, I catch a hint of blue.

Instantly, [Selection] flicks out, latching onto the piece of someone I caught. It catches something, creating a tether of dull mana, letting me know where it is, what it is. A small creature, light skin with a bluish hue.

It looks at me. I look at it. The creature has six eyes, two on each side of its face, and two on its forehead. It also has four arms.

I kind of want four arms. Can I make more with mana?

The creature takes a step closer. It can tell I’m watching it. Some kind of perception skill? Interesting. It takes another step. I keep staring at it, not bothering to hide my attention.

Slowly, the alien tilts its little head. It chitters a few noises that are unintelligible to me, but I know it’s curious. How do I know? I don’t know that. [Selection]? Probably the system, though. Translation functions seem like something it should have.

Again, the creature chitters, a longer amount of clicks this time. Its mouth is wide, and it has small mandibles at the side of its lips. They’re oddly cute. I wanna poke them. I tilt my head at it, too. “What are you?” I ask, quietly.

It jumps back. Jess, too, looks over, and I see a gasp freeze in her mouth, unspoken. I look at the thing again, waiting, unmoving. Tentatively, it starts walking forward again. Slowly, steadily, it walks up to our fire, then looks at me and chitters.

Something in the back of my mind tells me the noise is a request. The communication feels a little clearer. It looks at the remains of the campfire again, then at me. I nod. “Go for it.”

With my permission, the critter reaches down into the fire. It picks up a fistful of ash and glowing embers, then shoves them into its mouth. Pieces of not quite burnt wood crack and crunch, then it grabs another fistful of the remains of our fire and chews on them.

Its cheeks inflate a little bit, like a hamster. 

The alien wears clothing, too. It’s a little bit like a plush vest, but the design is full of webbing? Almost as if made to integrate spiderweb patterns. I watch as it eats yet another handful.

It chitters a few more words at me. Gratitude? It must’ve been hungry. What a strange critter. Another fistful of ash goes into its mouth, crunches, and gets devoured. The radiance dims a little. “Can you introduce yourself?” I ask.

Once more, the creature turns to me. Slowly, it nods. There is a chittering noise, a grinding, guttural sound, something that conveys a name. I look at it. “Really?” I ask, whisper-quiet. “Richard?”

The thing, between fistfuls of ash, makes a grunt of affirmation. The meanings become clearer in my mind. Almost understandable. A translation module slowly installing itself, maybe?

“Are you… happy with the food?” I ask.

Richard nods. “Ya,” she grunts. More noise. She says it’s tasty. 

Jess looks at me in a mix of horror and curiosity. I look at her. “You understand her, too?”

Slowly, she nods. “Barely,” she whispers. 

Hmmm. Maybe my [Selection] is making the process of grasping their language faster? The system definitely seems to be helping me out a little. I don’t think I should be learning an alien species’ communication method in a few minutes. 

Still, I sit, watch and wait as Richard eats the remains of our fire. I watch and wait, until there is another sound. A faint whistling.

I twist. Pain blossoms in my shoulder as an arrow pierces through it. I really hope that doesn’t become a theme.

Magic Breaker Ch 16-18

Chapter 16: Classes

[Congratulations!]

The text appears before my eyes again, just the same way it did during the night. It feels quiet, almost personal.

[You have gained access to your class through supremacy.]

[Additional details will be revealed. Brace.]

I set my teeth. A vice clamps around my head. It’s not… painful, at least not overly so, but there’s a pressure. I’m filled with vague impressions, knowledge, just tiny pieces of it. It’s like the system doesn’t want to waste time writing out a long explanation and is just pressing the intuition into my head.

First, I now know what my level means, why it’s only gone up by killing. Supremacy. That’s what the system calls it.

Any and all acts that show one’s dominance over another, that show that I am greater than some other lifeform is an act of supremacy, an act that proves I am worthy of advancement. And the simplest way to do just that is murder.

Plain and simple. Kill something to prove you can.

It’s a little disgusting, but I know more, too. Classes level separately from supremacy, though the two are intertwined. 

If you advance your supremacy, you advance your class. If you advance your class, you advance your supremacy. Experience from the two feeds into one another. But classes add their own experience gain mechanics.

They’re still combat oriented, generally, but they also have some aspect of mastery or learning. Simply practicing can level a class. Upon maxxing it, you get to choose a new one, progressively stacking experience gain methods and multipliers. They also feed into stat growth, and can unlock new skills.

And that’s all. I don’t know what stats they feed, what progression mechanic any given class will have, what their max level is. Are there tiers? Rarity? Builds? What do jobs do? I wanna know. I really, really wanna know. What else is this system not telling me yet? What other milestones are there?

What’s the pattern? Steps of ten? Or maybe the next will be at 25? I’m so curious. I want to know.

“You’re smiling again,” Inu gently reminds me.

I nod, slowly. “Yeah. Killing the boss brought me to level ten. I get to pick a class.”

“Heeeeeh, jealous~” Opal trills with a smile. “Pick a good one.”

[Class Options: <Analyst>, <Debuffer>, <Sorcerer>, <Deconstructor>, <Agony Enthusiast (sponsored)>, <Shadestalker (sponsored)>]

No additional information. I am left with just the names. 

First, I think that Analyst and Debuffer are very simple expressions of my two main skills and the way I’ve used them. I’m very sure they can be used for more, though. [Selection] and [Suppression] are rather vague in their names, after all.

I don’t wanna specialize too heavily either, though. They are what defines me in the eyes of the system, and it’s rather accurate, but that only makes me more apprehensive in letting it have a hand on where to take those skills and how to use them.

The next thing that sticks out is the sponsored options. I’ve drawn the eyes of the Master of Suffering and the Creeping Darkness, after all, so I strongly suspect those are linked to either of my… unsavory patrons. 

Well, patrons is a strong word. They haven’t given me anything yet. Just an offer, clearly.

Neither sounds appealing.

No way am I selling myself to some eye in the sky. Are they gods? Constellations? Mythical heroes? 

I don’t care.

Freedom is worth a million times more than power that comes with strings. 

Sorcerer seems like it was inspired by me getting [Solidification]. It sounds more promising, like it might let me delve further into magic. But it also sounds… more limited. Rigid, in a way? Like I need to walk down the path someone else illustrated for me.

It’s not good enough. I pick <Deconstructor>.

[Class gained: <Deconstructor>]

[Stat bonuses: +1 Vessel per level]

[Experience modules: Deconstruction]

At this point, it settles in. Classes stack. Any new one I get adds experience modules and more stat gains, but the old ones remain. I keep my stat bonuses. I keep my experience modules. And finally, even after mastering a class, I get to keep the skill it gives me.

[Skill bestowed: Deconstruction lv. 0]

I swipe my hand through the box, and it falls apart into motes of light. There is a vague impression of the skill in my mind. It’s faint, but definitely there. Like a button to push, for now. 

But I want more than that. I want to learn it, to understand it, to know what the skill is about. Almost holding my breath, I try to activate it for the first time, to press that button. It asks me for a target, and I decide to be ambitious.

[Deconstruction] triggers and tries to pick apart the pieces of the golden net of mana of the healing skill [Selection] showed me.

[Deconstruction 0 > 1]

[Deconstruction 1 > 2]

[Class up! Deconstructor 0 > 1]

Blood flows from my eyes and mouth again, and I grin. It’s so fucking wonderful.

Strings of mana unravel in front of my eyes. My new skill, [Deconstruction], is nuts. It’s made from lines of mana that spiral inwards, infinitely. Like a complex helix forming into a drill of lines. It is an entire toolbox of smaller and smaller bits and pieces, of scalpels and screwdrivers and things so tiny I cannot even hope to grasp them yet.

My first casting is brute force. It’s taking the helix drill, spinning it, and slamming it into the magic that makes up the healing I manage to remember. The shitty imitation that Inu and I managed to copy and replay, over and over.

It slams into it, tearing that shape apart, mangling it beyond belief. It shears off tiny pieces of mana, flooding my mind with hints, bits of meaning I’m not suited to grasp, thousands of little pieces that make my head ache. 

But I hold onto them. I learn. I understand my new skill better, I understand the healing better. Bits that diagnose your body, that decide how the healing should go. Bits that decide what matter to produce when flooded with mana. Bits that transform that mana into new flesh, that matches your old one. Bits that reinforce bones, that reforge muscles, that make tendons stronger. 

I can see how it lifts my limits, how it takes my body beyond where it should go, how the increase in heart strengthens and changes me. I catch the tiniest glimpse of an idea and it hurts. It sets my mind on fire. 

And then I can’t take any more. My head is full of patterns and structures until I can hold no more and the rest is wasted like so much stardust. The spell gets deconstructed but falls apart before I can memorize it, my mind still reeling from everything I’m trying to hold onto.

My lips twist into a grin, my thoughts race. I can tell that it’s more than any human should be able to remember. The system said our limits had been lifted. Physical and mental. My mind didn’t have stats attached to it, but it was different, already. The exercises of memorization I’ve been doing have been changing me.

I don’t mind. I cling to all the bits and pieces of the healing spell I remember. It’s so distant, so impossibly vast, it feels like trying to scoop up the ocean with a glass, but I don’t mind. I do it anyway, learning, understanding. 

[Class up! Deconstructor 1 > 2]

My class levels again, adding another point to my vessel. My mana grows. My capacity increases, and my blood rushes through my ears. And maybe out of them? My vision is blurry from the blood and pain, my senses feeling dull, so I can’t really tell.

I use my new mana, casting another healing spell, using my understanding to simplify and modify the absolute piece of trash I’d been using before. It works. Some of that blood clears. I breathe. 

Air enters my lungs, and a laugh bubbles out of me. I can’t hold it back. I kneel on the floor, stained with blood and darkness, bleeding from my eyes, and I tilt my head back in laughter. “Hahahaha!”

Opal taps Inu with their elbow, looking just a little concerned. “Has Snow always been like that?” they ask.

The girl smirks in response. “Did you expect anything different?”

I can barely hear their words, dulled by the blood in my ears. It sounds like I’m underwater. I laugh anyway, listening to them talk. 

“No,” Opal says. “No, I suppose I didn’t.”

Chapter 17: Scouting Sylves

Eventually, once I’ve digested most of the gains, I get up from the floor. Inu, Thatch and Opal surround me. “You okay?” Thatch asks. I see that he wants to hold my shoulder, and give him a nod. He pulls me into a hug, and I pat his back.

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re getting blood on your shirt though.”

A wet drop lands on my shoulder. “I was worried about you, Snow.” 

“Ah. That’s…” I feel a little awkward. “My bad, Thatch.”

Inu clicks her tongue, giving me a mischievous smile. “He has a point, Snow. You oughta take better care of yourself.”

I look at her. Without saying the words, I silently mouth ‘traitor’ to her, and she laughs. Thatch pats my back, then lets me go. “It’s… okay,” he says. “Glad you’re okay.”

“Mostly,” I say, grimacing. “My shirt’s ruined. It’s so sticky now.”

“You mean my shirt,” Opal says with a raise of their eyebrows. Thatch laughs and cries a little. Bay gives me a suspicious look, for making her son feel bad. Norman just clicks his tongue, and Jess looks equal parts concerned and confused. “What was that all about?” she asks.

Right. I’ll have to explain it all. “I got a class. It lets me peer into what makes mana work. I overexerted myself a bit too much.”

“A class, huh?” Opal asks, grinning. “What’s that all about, then?”

I give a small sigh. It’s just an explanation. I can do this. “The main level we have is called supremacy,” I say. “Proving to the world that we’re better or stronger than anyone else. Classes are unlocked… somehow. One of the methods is getting level ten, but proving you’re good enough is probably another. Classes have their own levels and add experience gain mechanisms, and work with supremacy, trading some experience back and forth.”

“What’s your class then?” Opal asks with a glimmer in their eyes.

“Deconstructor,” I say, waving them off. “It’s cool. I got bestowed a skill. It lets you kind of trigger it once, but then you learn it and stuff. Like normal skills.”

Opal didn’t let up, though. “What does it do, Snow?! What awesome abilities are you hiding from me? Do I needa shake them out of you?! Give me your lunch money!”

I step back as Opal creeps towards me, making lazy and playful grabbing motions. I stare at them blankly, explaining while walking backwards. “It lets me deconstruct things, Opal.”

They are deeply unsatisfied. “What does that meaaaaan?”

Too fun to tease. I smile. “Oh, dunno. Take things apart, I guess.”

With a swift motion, the greatsword appears in their hand again. “Snow…”

“Right, right!” I say, laughing. “It lets me take apart other skills, learn how they work. Disassemble magic to understand each piece.”

They light up. “That’s awesome! Hey, hey, take a look at my [Bound Armament]! I wanna know how to make it better.”

Without hesitation, they trigger the skill, but I faintly shake my head. “Not right now,” I say, casting the butchered, half-assed healing spell in the back of my mind, and feeling the rushing of blood in my ears pull back a little. “We need to scout.”

At that, Opal drops the teasing. They smile, just a little. “Right,” they say, looking up at the spire. “Sylves is the only one missing, no?”

I smile, nodding. They always get me. “Yeah. Sylves.”

“Where do you think she would’ve gone?” they ask, putting the summoned blade on their shoulder. 

“The forest,” Inu says.

“Yep. The forest,” Thatch provides.

There is nothing to do but nod. “The forest,” I agree. Since she’s not with us, that’s the only real option for her.

“We don’t have any forests around,” Opal notes.

“Not before the terraforming,” Inu says. “Now, though?”

I just nod. “Let’s climb the tower then,” I say. There is a stairwell upwards, behind the throne.

“One problem,” Amelie interrupts. She gestures pointedly at her wheelchair. “That sure isn’t a ramp.”

Opal drops the sword, freeing up their hands. “No trouble,” they say. “I’ll carry you.”

The girl smiles a little. “What are you, a knight?”

“Don’t have any shining armor yet, but you sure are spoiled enough to call a princess,” they say, smirking.

Amelie gasps. “A mercenary, then!”

With a sigh, Opal walks up to the girl, swiftly grabbing the wheelchair and lifting it. Their power must be high. A few strings tie the chair to Opal’s shoulders, courtesy of Amelie’s [Puppeteer]. Then, we walk.

The adults, who still seem a little out of it after the fight, follow us up. They’ve been talking, of course, but I wasn’t listening very closely. We trudged up the stairwell, giving me some time to think. 

The system. What was its main point? Classes, jobs, supremacy. Those seem to be the three aspects. It’s definitely geared towards some kind of end goal, but I’m curious what that is. Entertainment? For the eyes in the sky? That has to be part of it, but it doesn’t feel like the full picture.

Defiance, maybe? The idea of reaching high heights? There are clearly floors to it, so is there some kind of tower to climb? If so, I hope there’s ramps. Otherwise, we might need to send a strongly worded email to some kind of leading department.

Eventually, we reach the top of the spire.

We step out to the roof of the castle. It’s a tower, those notched walls all around the rim that are so typical of castles. I wanna climb on top of them. “Hey, Inu?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hold my hand for a sec,” I say.

She raises her eyebrows for a second, but does as I ask her, holding onto me. I hop onto one of the ramparts, then climb to the higher one. It’s just thick enough for my feet to fit onto it entirely. I don’t need to balance, but better safe than sorry.

The way down is so far. I wonder what would happen if I fell. Just… splat, like that. I lift my head, not giving the dizzying drop another look.

I feel the wind blowing through my hair, white strands drifting around me, drying out the blood on my face and shirt. Red flakes blow away in the breeze, and I look around. Forests, lakes, overgrown cities, buildings that shouldn’t exist. There are so many things out there.

It makes me wanna see it all. 

Breathing deep, I let the moment last a little while longer. Mana, prickling on my skin, blood rushing through my ears, wind playing with my hair. The world, so much vaster, sprawled out to the horizon.

Norman almost starts whining again, but I can hear someone clap a hand on his mouth. Opal, I’d imagine. I close my eyes. The world is big. It’s just gotten bigger, and I can't suddenly see it all anymore at my fingertips.

For just a little while, just a few seconds, I enjoy it. The silence. The open possibilities. The way the world has changed.

“Okay,” I say into the silence. “Done.” I hop down, then let go of Inu’s hand. “Thanks.”

She smiles at me. “No problem.”

Opal lifts their palm from Norman’s mouth. “The hell was that about?” he asks, grumpily.

“Snow was having a moment,” Opal says, looking down at the smaller man. “I made sure you didn’t disrupt it.”

“A moment?” he asks, impatiently, staring at me. He takes a step closer. “Lookie here, Snow. We all just almost died, and you wanna just stand there and take it in? Think it’s beautiful, huh?”

I look back at him, tilting my head. I don’t see the issue with it. Why’s he asking something so obvious? “Yes,” I say. 

“Inu, I don’t think you should associate with this person,” he says.

The words are icy. Cold. I look at him, then at Inu, then back at him. She gives her dad a long look. Then, she smiles, awkwardly.

“Don’t say stuff like that, dad,” she says. “You know, Snow is quite lovely. I’m glad to be friends.”

Norman looks like he wants to say something else, but keeps his mouth shut. He clicks his tongue. Given the pained smile on Inu’s face, I think she’ll talk to him about this again.

That’s okay. She’s allowed to. It’s her dad. She can make her own decisions. I’ll trust her, fully, and if she decides to exploit that trust, then it’ll hurt. And after that hurt, I’ll live on, anyway.

“Sylves,” I say, my mouth feeling dry. “Thatch. Can you look for Sylves?”

He just nods. “Of course,” he says.

Bay holds his hand as he balances on the rampart, and turns on his [Piercing Gaze]. One of its functions is intimidating opponents, but the other is just very literally piercing through objects. He looks down at the forest.

“See anything?” Opal asks.

Thatch shakes his head, slowly walking around the edge of the tower. “Not yet,” he says. “I’ll keep looking, though.”

And so, we wait. Seconds slowly turn into minutes as he walks around. He takes one trip, then a second, then a third. I see Norman get impatient. He grumbles to Jess about wanting a place to sit down and sleep, to eat some food in peace, and she pats his head affectionately, with a faint smile.

What an effective way to deal with his grumbling. She doesn’t even need to speak. Truly an expert grumpiness dispeller. I am in awe of her ability.

Eventually, Thatch breaks out into a grin. “There!” he says. “Spotted her!”

I smile. “Let’s get her, then.”

Chapter 18: The Forest

We climb back down the spire, then walk through the now nameless castle. The miasma has thinned and dissipated. I get to focus all my effort on [Suppressing] the little creature inside my body again. I’m almost tempted to [Deconstruct] it, really. 

But I don’t do that yet. 

As we walk, I do note that my latest skill broke one of the two patterns in their name. It doesn’t start with an ‘S’. Still ends in ‘ion’, though. 

Let’s see how long the pattern holds.

“Snow. This Sylves is your friend, yes?” Amelie asks.

I nod.

“What do you plan to do after getting her, then? We may need to begin making decisions as a group. I do not wish to simply be pulled along with you.”

Opal flashes me a small smile. Princess indeed. “You’re free to do whatever you like,” I say, waving a hand through the air. “I’m not forcing you to come along.”

She looks at me for a long moment, an armor that’s been wrapped with strings pushing her wheelchair. “Hmmm,” she hums. “I suppose I do not mind tagging alongside your group.”

“What got you travelling with Opal?” I ask.

“Ah, that,” she says. Her lips curl upwards a little, and she lifts a hand to cover her giggle. “We lived in opposite flats in the same apartment building. When the world ended they checked up on me.”

“You live alone?” I ask.

She gives me a long look. “Mostly,” she nods. 

I don’t pry anymore, just nodding. She waits for a while before continuing.

“Opal knew I’m disabled, so they decided to see about bringing me along on their adventure. We figured out how to use the skills. Then, that oaf decided to drag me along into a dungeon,” she throws my friend a sideways glance. 

“That sounds like them, alright,” I say, smiling faintly.

“Ey! I can hear you!” Opal complains, half heartedly. 

Amelie nodded sagely. “Indeed,” she says, ignoring their protests. “Well, I do not truly mind. These skills have been rather useful for me, personally.”

I nod. Being able to make puppets to push her chair must be nice. “Have you put points into heart?” I ask.

“Yes. No, it has not changed my disability,” she says.

“Right,” I say. “Sorry.”

“It was a little rude,” she nods, “but you’re forgiven.”

She really does have the princess-vibe down to a science. I smile slightly. “It’s appreciated.”

For a few moments, we settle into silence, when Jess speaks up. “What’s Sylves like?” she asks.

Inu gives her a longer look. “Kind,” she says. “Cheerful.”

“Energetic and bubbly,” Opal supplies.

“... A bit of a handful,” Thatch sighs.

That makes me laugh a little. “You’re all so silly,” I say.

“Thank you,” Jess says. “I appreciate it. Say, Snow, after this… what will we do?”

I smile. “Learn magic. Survive. Find a way to climb to the next floor. Learn everything there is to learn about classes.” There are dozens of things I wanna do already. Work on my mana puzzle, for one. Dissect the heal skill I’m working on some more. Figure out solidification.

Really, I should already be doing those while walking, shouldn’t I? If Sylves is hurt, I’d want to heal her, after all. I stop myself from humming as I think about the way the system made the mana flow again, and direct it to move that way, too.

Of course, I fuck it up, casting a botched skill with a horrible effect. But it heals me, just a little. I’ve got those bits down tentatively. It’s just a resource sink.

Despite my rather significant vessel stat, it drains my mana. I feel that ethereal power leak out of me like water down the drain, hungrily fuelling something that’s not even good enough to be called a skill.

But it’s okay. I learn, I get better at visualising the bits of the structure I need, slowly expanding it. I’ll make the system acknowledge it, even if I stole it. So, I do it again. And again, as we walk.

Whenever I’m low on mana, I instead work on solidifying small parts of it, turning them into grains, and squishing those grains into each other to create tiny needles.

The mana seems to want to crystallize into rigid, somewhat elongated forms. It’s strange, and I’m pretty sure I could change it, but it works for now, and I don’t mind it. This will do for now. I can move the solid mana pretty fast, and it seems to mess with skills inside someone else’s body.

So, I prep some, as much as my mana lets me, then go back to work on the healing skill.

We walk down the hill from the castle, and then let Thatch lead us. He’s memorized the direction that Sylves was in. Pierced her with his gaze, or something like that. What a tricky skill to figure out.

Mine feel a little more straightforward than that. Well, they’re still nuanced, of course, but his really is rather open to interpretation, isn’t it? I wonder if he could use it like an evil eye type skill. The kind that did damage to someone when he looked at them, literally manifesting the “piercing” part as wounds?

Something to discuss with him when the general conversation dies down a little. I give a small sigh, taking out my headphones and popping them on, looking at the pathetic 50% battery left on my phone. I turn on some music, and the world starts to turn into nothing more than ambiance.

I love noise-cancelling headphones.

- - -

There are goblins in the forest. 

It’s not quite a dungeon, not like the Dreadburg, but it’s still very different from the city. The mana feels denser, here, like someone pressing down on my skin. I don’t like it, but I bear with it.

Just until we find Sylves, I can endure it, surely. As long as I have my headphones.

I keep them on, even as a wolf jumps from the forest to attack us. I split my focus in two, part of my will getting to work on [Suppressing] the animal. Opal then quickly dispatches it, and I focus back on my personal little parasite.

Since I’ve been practicing the healing skill, it’s been getting better. My insides feel a little less messed up, and the creature is being pushed back a bit. It’s growing stronger from eating me, yes, but I’m growing stronger faster.

Just you wait, little parasite. I’ll dissect you yet.

Norman and Bay don’t like the forest. It puts them on edge, constantly nervous. Jess, in comparison, seems to take it fairly well. She just maintains her calm, lashing out with frost whenever needed, then dissecting the bodies.

She’s rather meticulous about it, too, storing bits of wolf meat for later use. It looks a little disgusting, especially since there were still grocery stores to raid, but we’d make do. The first really strange part was when we find a slime.

It’s round, squishy, blue, and held in a thin membrane. It has no eyes, just a small sphere in its middle. A core, maybe?

Opal pokes it with their sword.

The slime explodes.

My friend blinks back, and I [Suppress] the explosion, keeping us largely safe. Some acid spills on me, turning my hoodie into more tatters, and burning a bit through my skin before I suppress its effects, too, and shake it off. More practice for healing, I suppose.

It hurts, though. It really hurts.

“What the fuck was that?!” Norman yells, halfway hidden behind a hissing tree.

“A slime,” I supply.

“I can see that much!” he says, scowling. “I meant why it exploded!”

That makes sense. I nod. “No idea,” I say, bowing down to grab the core. It hurts a little, but that’s okay. Yet, when my fingers touch it, it dissipates into motes of mana.

Some of that pours into me, restoring my pool just a little, and I immediately cast another heal. The itching from the acid dissipates, and new skin grows where my old one became patchy.

I take a long breath. “Well. Any of you good with a bow?” I ask.

Magic Breaker Ch 13-15

Chapter 13: Dungeon

We walk up the hill. It wasn’t there before, sprouting from in between damaged buildings. Green grass spilled over from jagged edges of the concrete, puzzle pieces being shoved into each other until they fit, the edges battered. 

The terraforming is strange. Plants shouldn’t just be able to be fused into each other. If we assume they’re all the size of earth, and their surfaces what really matters, then we would need a much larger sphere than what would fit all their volumes. 

It’s safe to assume, then, that some things were adapted, and some discarded, maybe? I don’t feel heavier, either. Maybe space is being twisted around to make it all fit? Is Earth now full of pocket dimensions?

I suppose it doesn’t matter, for now. 

Instead of worrying, I walk up the grassy hill towards the castle. It looms above us, casting an enormous shadow. From up closer I can see that the grey stone is worn and weathered, bearing marks and chips. Some of them enormous.

Parts of the wall have crumbled inwards, as if from being hit with something massive. That combined with the giant furrows makes me think of dragons, just a little. 

As we walk closer, the feel to the mana in the air changes again. The pinpricks settle, just a little. Instead, it starts to feel… ominous? Foreboding?

I don’t think the others notice, but I do. The threshold smells of bricks and fear and dried blood. The castle is in ruins, but it is by no means abandoned.

[Dungeon: Dreadburg. Level: 12]

The announcement comes just as we get close enough to really see the insides of the place. Dreadburg. A dungeon. My eyes light up.

Thatch gives a bit of a whistle. “Daaang, they got dungeons, huh? Level twelve, too. Can we manage that?”

Inu smiles, happily walking up to a hole in the wall and begins clambering up the rubble. “One way to find out.”

“Hah! You know we’ll die if we fail, right?” Thatch says, looking at me this time.

There really is no hesitation in either of the two. I grin. “Yeah. That’s why we won’t fail, right?” 

“Inu, shouldn’t we-” her dad starts, but she waves him off. 

She looks back for just a moment. “Dad. Stop, please. This is the last time I’m asking nicely. Is this dangerous? Yes. Absolutely. We might die. I get it, okay? But just stop nagging us about it. Make suggestions on how to do something, rather than whether or not it’s safe.”

He shuts up, looking annoyed. A moment passes between the two. “Fine,” Norman eventually grumbles, and starts clambering up the rubble. Thatch looks at his mom, meaning just the same. Bay shrugs with a kind of crooked smile, and heads up towards the castle as well.

And then, we all enter the Dreadburg.

Darkness cloys around us. It’s thick, inky, but unlike the thing inside me. That is made of shadow, while this feels more like a… miasma. It’s like a fog, but instead of diffusing light, it’s absorbing it. Not that we’re left alone for too long.

Something clatters in the darkness. 

I reach out with [Selection], trying to lock onto the thing. For a moment, my tether drifts aimlessly, then snaps to a thing. 

It’s coming towards me. Fast.

Without hesitation, I throw myself to the side, and the rocks I had just been standing on explode as something heavy slams into them. It moves with creaking dust, and my mana brushes against it, telling me more.

[Dreadarmor lv. 8]

An empty set of armor, filled with dense miasma. It moves, shifty, and creaks upwards from where it lays. As a small test, I burst one of my mana-grains, and watch as the darkness gets pushed aside by my mana. Good. That should work.

[Suppression].

My skill slams into the armor with force, slowing it down, almost physically crushing it against the ground. “Freeze it!” I yell at Jess.

Snapping out of her stun, the woman casts her spell, and ice begins to gather at the armor’s feet. It pulls one free, but then Thatch’s hand grabs its head and slams it into the floor. His eyes glow emerald, locked onto the monster, and his muscles bulge with [Rage].

I approach the armor, pinned down by the three of us, when Bay steps up to it. She traces her fingers on the armor for a moment, then it falls to the ground, the pieces clattering apart. Huh. I raise an eyebrow at her.

“[Deactivate], one of my skills. That took almost all my mana. The other is [Pulse], which seems to send a small electrical shock. Used to work as a mechanic, so I guess…” she gives a half hearted shrug. 

“Got it,” I nod. That’s helpful. I wanna see her [Deactivate] again. I feel like I could learn from it.

Not that I need to wait for very long. Another animated armor charges us as soon as we open a door, almost crashing into me before Inu puts herself in harm’s way. At the last second before impact, our debuffs land on the armor, and it crashes into the tall girl.

She takes a few steps back, grunting in pain, and I reach out to suppress it, but she waves me off. “I’m okay,” she says, breathing. “I’m… okay.”

Bay quickly deactivates the armor, and it falls apart. “Levelled,” she notes.

I look at Inu. “What level is [Resistance]?” I ask.

“Now? Three,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Two after the arrow. Three after this crash. It… hurts, but I think I can [Resist] the pain, too.”

“You sure you don’t want me to…?”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s good practice for the skill. I’m gonna need the levels if I keep taking hits like that. My arms are all numb. Thanks for the barrier, dad.”

He just nods, sweating. He’s scared, I can tell. Jess, comparatively, seems almost unfazed, her eyes looking into the darkness for more danger. Or maybe she is always scared? I decide it doesn’t matter. 

Instead, I move up to the armor, crumpled on the ground. “Norman, Thatch.” I call out to them as I start taking it apart. Their heads turn to me. “You’re our scouts. Stealth skill and vision skill. See if you can find monsters, Thatch. If he does, you need to kite them here without alerting anything else, Norman.”

Inu’s dad moves to protest, immediately, but I disregard him. My focus is already on the monster corpse.

And it is a corpse. The miasma, the mana around us, is pulling at the plates, little by little. I put my hand on one of them. I can feel the way the world pulls on it, wanting it back. Like a tax on our kill. I push a little bit of my mana up against it, and the feeling pulls back. As if it’s been acknowledged as my property.

“Hmmm,” I hum to myself. The armors don’t wear any weapons. “Inu?” I ask.

“Hm?”

“Think you could use some armor?” 

Her eyes light up. “Oh. Oh my god. Can I?” 

Who doesn’t love a shiny set of armor.

- - -

Dark knight Inu steps forward fearlessly. Her father comes sprinting around the corner, most certainly fearfully. There is a single armor behind him, charging after him in mostly straight lines. 

As the armor starts another charge, Inu steps forward, the plates we’d fastened to her clattering. She pulls her dad and throws him behind her. The armor comes crashing in, instantly suppressed, frozen, and pierced by Thatch’s gaze. It slows, measurably, but still slams into Inu with a horrible crashing sound.

I can see the metal getting dented a little. But against all odds, the girl remains standing. We push the armor to the ground again, and Bay moves up. “Don’t fully deactivate it,” I warn her. “We wanna spread out levels.”

“Right,” she hums. Then, the light in the armor winks out entirely. “Shit.”

Thatch pat’s her back. “It’s alright,” he says. “Controlling skills like that is hard.”

I restrain myself from asking again, instead I return my split [Selection] onto just the thing in my side. It’s hard to keep active on two targets at once, but it makes doing the same for [Suppression] easier. Some distance ahead, my mana grains orbit like landmines. I’m just waiting for an armor to crash into one.

We regroup for a little while. Letting Inu recover from the shock. Wish we had a healer. I really should get on figuring that out.

On that note, actually…

I look at my left hand. The axe I’ve been using is easy to swing with just one. And my mana grains and skills are all just mental. Can I focus as well as I always do when in pain? 

Maybe I’ll focus better.

I slice my palm open with one of the goblin knives. Blood splatters across the bricks, and Jess gasps. Norman looks at me like I’m insane. Bay, too, seems a little disgusted. 

But Inu already gets it. Thatch looks at me. “Are you… okay? What’s that for?”

“We need a healer,” I say. “I’m going to try mana flow variations to help me heal my wound.”

His eyes light up. “Oh, that’s clever!”

“That’s fucking stupid!” Norman says. I look at him, blandly. 

Inu starts talking to him, so I move on. Instead of moving to a pointless debate, I just focus on my wound, swirling my mana around. I know the pattern for [Suppression]. It’s my only skill that feels like it “activates” properly, so I copy that mana flow, first.

It slows the bleeding a little, takes the edge off the pain, but it’s not enough. I [Select] the wound, dealing with the strain on my mind again. I need to know more, need to observe it more closely, and [Select] can make information gathering easier.

Also, it should tell me more on what the pseudo-skills I’m using on my hand do to it. I twist the mana pattern of [Suppression] a bit, trying to wrap my head around it, and it flows through selection. 

The wound worsens. More of my skin cracks open, spilling blood. It hurts. I look at my wound, then try a different twist. Pain reduction. Another twist, more blood, no pain. Another twist…

- - -

Norman brings in another armor. This is the fifth one, and it finally crashes into one of my grains in its charge. As the tiny splinter of glowing mana makes contact with the armor’s leg, it detonates, making my mana flood the area in the same way that ambient mana does.

It’s not solid, but also not quite a gas. It’s just… mana. Invisible, ethereal, but all around. It clashes with the miasma, pushing it out of the armor’s leg, and the thing clatters to the ground.

Satisfied, I focus a bit of [Suppression] on it almost automatically. I maintain focus on the thing in my chest too. I don’t cast [Selection] on the armors anymore cause it takes too much focus away from my bleeding hand.

My mana has damaged it more, but that’s okay. It drips blood, but I don’t mind that either. It’ll be worthwhile, so long as I get a healing skill. Even if I need to ruin it once, it’ll heal, probably.

I definitely should get more points, though. My mana is running dry after so many twists. But I’ve gotten better at casting tiny skill alterations, using so little power for it, and learning more with [Selection].

[Selection 2 > 3]

A small smile plays on my lips. My skills are coming along nicely, compared to my overall level. Character level? It should have a name, surely. Well, not like it matters. The armor is on the floor, crippled. The miasma doesn’t return to its leg.

Bay walks up, but this time, she doesn’t get to finish it. I step forward. “This one’s mine,” I say. No one protests, for once, and I hover one of my mana grains into its helmet visor, then detonate it inside. 

It crumbles, no longer solid, expands, and pushes the miasma out. The thing falls limp.

[You have killed a lv. 9 Dreadarmor] 

[Level Up! 3 > 5]

Two levels. I smile. Six points. I feel like I should probably allocate at least one to heart, so I spent it.

There is an immediate effect. My wound closes up a little around the edges. My eyes widen. In the same way that taking vessel refills my mana a little, body seems to immediately heal some wounds.

On one hand, it means we don’t need a healer as badly. On the other… I redouble my focus on the wound, staring at it, trying to make my eyes go through it. “Thatch? Help me with this. Inu, you too, focus your [Empathy] on me.” 

No questions. My friends just kneel down around me, staring at the wound. I place another point in heart.

My skin closes up a little. It’s smooth, almost elegant, the way new flesh sprouts where old one was before. I felt an inkling, a hint of mana in there, but it was blazing fast. 

“Shit,” Thatch says. “That was… terrifying.”

Inu swallows dryly. “Yeah.”

It was. The mana moved so swiftly I could barely even catch a glimpse of it. Almost invisible. But it was there, I know it was. So I focus even harder. “Can you replay the sensation, Inu?”

She looks at me for a moment. “I’ll try,” she says.

[Empathy] lets her feel a bit of what I’m feeling. I don’t know if the skill should let her replicate emotions of the past, but it might. Maybe. Patterns like this one? It seems unlikely, but worth a try. 

And she does try. A tiny pinprick, a jolt of sensation goes through my hand. It’s not even remotely the same as before. It is like a copy of a copy of a copy. A 4k picture compressed down to messy pixelart. I can barely, ever so slightly, make out the main features.

But it’s also simpler. Less extravagant, less perfect, and horribly inefficient, but I can almost see it, almost. “Again.”

Once more, the pulse comes, and I fail to puzzle it out. Over, and over, and over, and over.

Until Inu’s mana runs dry, and she cannot repeat it anymore. “Let’s wait,” I ask. “One more.”

This time, I don’t [Select] my hand. I [Select] Inu’s [Empathy].

My skill sends out a tendril of sensation, and for a few moments, it hovers in the air, confused at my intent. A greyish wisp of smoke in my mind, not knowing where to go. But the skill is there, I know it is. Inu flinches back.

“What the hell?” she asks. “It feels like I’m being… poked.”

I blink. “It might be me,” I say. “Trying to use [Selection] on your skill.”

She looks at me for a long moment. Then nods. The tendril snaps forward, latching onto her, no, onto a specific part of her. Inu guided it there herself.

The skill is horribly complex. A mess of mechanics and networks I cannot even begin to wrap my head around. It’s enough to give me a headache as I even try to glimpse it. “Your nose is bleeding,” Thatch notes.

I just nod. “Repeat the pulse again, Inu. Three, two, one… go!”

Not a second passes after my words, and I close my eyes, focussing fully on my senses. And it’s there, at the edge of them. Lines of mana, spirals and twists, geometric patterns that web and twist inside of each other. Some pieces repeated and reinforced, some so fragile and thin that a butterfly may snap them by landing on them.

It’s beautiful.

[Selection 3 > 4]

[Selection 4 > 5]

Then the moment passes, and a horrible, raging pain rings inside my skull. I don’t scream. I [Suppress] my own voice.

I curl up into a ball on the floor. It hurts. It hurts worse than anything ever before. I forget to maintain [Suppression] on the thing in my side, and it writhes, but it’s barely a flickering candleflame to the roaring bonfire of pain in my head.

And yet. And yet! 

It’s so beautiful.

Chapter 14: Familiar Face

I open my eyes much, much later. 

Everything hurts. My insides feel like a slurry. The thing crawling through them has made a mess of things. My head hurts. There’s dried blood under my nose, under my eyes, even leaking from my ears and mouth. The world is blurry, it smells and tastes of iron and stale dust.

Four points. I spend one more on heart. The other three go into vessel. 

Blearily, I call up my Status. 

Lv. 5

Heart: 9

Power: 2

Vessel: 12

My heart went up by one naturally. The ground around me is littered with slowly decaying pieces of metal. Almost like a small barricade around me. Slowly, I sit up, my mouth dry, activating [Suppression] on the little parasite again.

It struggles far more, but that’s fine. I just smack my will into it. Again, and again, until it turns placid. My nose starts bleeding again, but I just wipe the tiny scarlet drizzle away, smearing it into my hoodie. I will have to mourn the piece of clothing later. 

Some more time passes as I take the bottle from my backpack, downing some water. It tastes metallic, probably from all the blood in my mouth. Everything aches, I’m sore all over, but that’s fine.

Despite it all, I slowly rise, my expression… placid. I’ve glimpsed it. Just at the very edge of my awareness, ever so distantly. And I’ve been glimpsed in return.

[You have caught the Eye of the Master of Suffering.]

That’s fine, too. If they want to look at me, they are free to. Not like I can do anything about it.

Yet.

Thatch notices me first. I smile. He’s so attentive. “Snow!” he calls. 

“That’s me,” I confirm.

“You were out for hours,” Inu says. “Two and a half, just about.”

I nod, slowly. That seemed about right. “How are things?”

Bay looks at me, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed. “Quiet. We took down armors way deeper in. We’re all level eight, now.” She flashed me a smile. “You’re lagging behind.”

At that, my heart beats faster. I smile. “I’ll catch up.”

“Good. Inu is just about ready. We were considering carrying you deeper if you didn’t wake up,” Norman supplies helpfully.

For a moment, I imagine him touching me and shiver at the thought. I’m lucky I woke up in time.

My head still throbs, but I get up on my feet. It’s hard to walk, and I lean on the wall with my left hand, smearing blood all over it and dirtying what remains of the cut I did to it. Surprisingly, my resources are fine. My mana is full again, other than the bit I used on the parasite.

So, without hesitation, I try to heal my hand again. To twist my mana into that spiralling, beautiful, horrible pattern that makes my head hurt to even think about.

What I make is a pale shadow. A twisted, half-aborted version of [Suppression], with flourishes and twists to mimic the thing I saw even remotely. Instead of a radiant tapestry of stars and strings, a firmament in the sky, what I make is like a child’s crayon drawing. Even worse, really.

It’s barely recognizable, barely passable, not even enough for it to recognize the skill. But. My hand, just faintly, itches. Just ever so slightly, my wound scabs over. It’s not miraculous. It takes time, the cast is difficult, and makes my head ache. But it definitely healed just a bit, I’m sure.

I take a deep breath, and keep the smile off my face. My butchered healing spell, despite all its flaws, is rather pretty, too. I face the empty corridors. “Let’s go then.” And with that, we walk forward.

As we journey deeper into the castle, as the fear around us becomes palpable, creeps up my spine and makes my hair stand on end, I practice. Over and over again, I twist my mana. Over and over and over again. 

- - -

Taking down armors is almost routine. One crashes into Inu. She stops it, we slam it to the ground, debuff, then Bay uses [Deactivate] to partially disassemble them. Whoever needs kills the most does the rest.

With that strategy, we slowly make our way to the castle.

[You have killed a lv. 7 Dreadarmor]

[You have killed…]

[You have killed…]

Notifications come in with every time that I push a grain of mana into their visor, with every time I make it come apart and eradicate the miasma. I’ve gotten better at it, too, packing more mana into each grain. 

[Solidification 1 > 2]

[Level Up! 5 > 7]

I gain two more levels. One point goes to heart, five to vessel. And then, we are in front of a big door. 

It’s enormous. Made from dark wood, the lacquer on it flaking. It feels like a boss room. I give my nails a glance, and decide they need repainting soon. 

A tiny part of me is scared of what might be behind the door. I feel my heart thumping, the way adrenalin floods through me. The way I know I might die. I embrace that. 

The enemies in the castle were all under level ten. This is the room underneath the central spire, the watchtower we’re aiming to climb to find Opal and Sylves. I’m sure there will be trouble. I’m certain. 

But that’s okay. We’ll prevail. I’m sure we will.

Inu and Thatch nod at me. Norman looks to the floor, but Jess gives me a reassuring smile, and Bay a thumbs up. I take a deep breath and push open the door.

Darkness.

Miasma floods out. It’s like the lights were switched off. The smell of rust is overwhelming and disgusting. The dark fog brushes against us like a palpable wave of fear. I can hear Norman taking a step back, can feel the way Jess shivers. 

Thatch taps into [Rage]. Inu [Resists]. I [Suppress] it. We’ll prevail.

I take a step into the chamber. My eyes adjust slowly. In the very middle of it, there is a throne. Upon it, there is an empty suit of armor.

It’s regal, adorned with gold and red, and a plume of crimson waves from its helmet-crown. 

[Dreadking lv. 15]

And, in front of it, there is a human. Two humans. 

There is a girl in a wheelchair, her brown hair braided like a wreath around her head. She wears a light summer dress in pink and white, and there’s a playful glint in her golden eyes as she looks at the king.

But my eyes don’t stick on her. Instead, I focus on the person next to the girl. They’re tall. Dark skin, dreadlocks tied together behind their head, a scruffy goatee on their chin, wearing an open trenchcoat that they’ve lent to me before. Their eyes have a reddish hue, and there is a fierce grin on their face.

Opal points a greatsword at the king. It’s almost as long as they are tall, but looks like it weighs as much as a feather in their hands. If the challenge wasn’t clear enough yet, they speak. “Come the fuck at me!!” they scream to the king, their voice energetic and steady.

The armor moves, but I don’t care in the slightest. “Opal!” I call, and they turn to me.

All of the fierceness in their eyes evaporates. “Snow!” they pause, then brighten even more. “Inu, Thatch!”

Then, the king rises. It happens in the blink of an eye, its sword slamming down where Opal had just stood, but his body was jerked out the way. Ethereal strings wrapped around their joints by the girl in the wheelchair. 

“I would recommend you don’t get distracted too much,” she says, her voice regal.

“Hahaha! Right, right. My bad.” They smile brightly, then look to me again. “Snow! Let’s kill it!”

Smiling back, I nod. “Alright,” I say. I’ve found Opal. Now, all I need to do is keep them safe.

Chapter 15: Dreadking

Already, the fear is palpable in the air. The miasma feels… appropriately dreadful, I suppose. I can feel it, scratching against my mind, trying to infect me, to make me back down, turn tail and run. 

I step forward. [Selection] latches onto the king. Then, through that thin tendril of connection, [Suppression] slams into it.

Until now, each time, it made the armors stumble, but the king barely seems to notice. Its visor turns to me, the darkness beneath it burning. I dodge before I even see it move, jumping to the side.

There’s a crack and the ground splits where I just stood. The king’s sword is stuck in the stone, but the goliath pulls it back out in one smooth motion. It looks at us, as if trying to pick a new target, then settles on Thatch. 

His eyes glow emerald, and I see the king shift faintly under the debuff. As it moves, I double, then triple down on my [Suppression]. It slows, ever so faintly, and Thatch’s skin turns red with anger as he sidesteps. 

A moment later, Inu places an armored boot on the sword, and Opal comes crashing into it from behind, stabbing the greatsword into the gaps of the armor. Some of the darkness seems to spill out into the room, making everything colder and darker, but then the king’s fist crashes into Inu.

The metal of her armor crumples more, absorbing the force of the blow, but still sending the girl flying backwards. I solidify more grains of mana, placing them around the king like landmines as it swings for Opal, who simply… winks out of existence.

Some kind of teleportation, maybe? 

Ice gathers around the animated suit of armor, and Jess becomes its next target. We’re lucky it only charges in a strange line, crashing into one of Norman’s barriers and shattering it before the girl in the wheelchair yanks Jess out of the way with those strange strings.

Then, more of them appear, attached to suits of armor. Their pieces move in a jerky, unsettling way as tiny strings connecting them to the girl’s fingers. There are two soldiers under her command, each one leaping at the dreadking.

Bay sprints at it right after it throws off one of the puppets, and a pulse flows from her hand, through the air, and into the armor. For just a moment, it’s stunned, and the second she steps back, Opal appears above it, slamming the greatsword down on its head. 

Inu rises from the rubble, and Thatch is barrelling toward the animated suit. I direct some of my mana grains towards it, sneaking them into the darkness that seeps from the wounds Opal has inflicted.

The room grows colder yet again, my mana clashing with the miasma, my will forcing the king to be just slow enough where we can manage, and it locks onto me again. It looks different. The darkness seems to pour out of the gaps in the armor now.

With a spin, Opal is thrown off in a blur of cloth and iron, and then it’s on me. 

This time, the king is different.

I see the sword coming and step backwards. It’s slower, almost measured, but I have no defense. All I can do is create more distance, stepping back with each approach, as the monster throws cut after cut.

No longer does it charge and slam, instead its movements are more refined. One slash leads into another, then a thrust comes at my stomach. When I lurch to the side, it slashes at me, and the puppeteer girl has to yank me back. 

A second later, Inu is there, holding bent pieces of armor strapped to her forearm as a makeshift shield. A titanic blow crashes down on her, and I can feel her bones grind in protest as they stop its momentum. 

My friends winces in pain.

Who the fuck does this king think he is?

I redouble my effort on [Suppression]. Once again, the inky thing inside me is forgotten. My pain doesn’t matter. I want this fucker on his knees. I want him dead. 

My will surges like a tidal wave, my mana pouring into the skill as it triggers, over and over, stacking and redoubling the debuff. I see the sneer of darkness on the king turning grim. It stumbles, then falls to a knee. 

Strings and ice wrap around it, and it fights. 

It fights so hard, so violently, and I do not care.

Calmly, with measured steps, I walk towards the kneeling monarch. My eyes don’t blink. My will doesn’t waver. The grains of mana that I’d been placing around as landmines all gather before me. There’s over a dozen of them, and I will them to fuse. 

They crash into each other, each held apart, but I squeeze them more. And more and more, until the grains of rice become a spiky, larger blob. 

[Solidification 2 > 3]

It’s ugly, but it also holds three times as much mana as I can hold with my full vessel.

Gingerly, with my own two hands, I place it inside the visor. The king tries to slash at me, but Opal stops the sword. Thatch grabs its fist. Inu holds down its legs. 

I feel the blob of mana tumbling into the miasma within the armor, and then I detonate it.

A wave of air spills over, the mana instantly disintegrating, spreading, annihilating the miasma. It burns through the force animating the king, and its weakened will struggles against mine. I [Suppress] it more, and my mana does more damage. 

It’s a virtuous cycle, breaking down and eroding the insides of the king until it dies. 

[You have killed a lv. 15 Dreadking]

[Level up! 7 > 10]

[First Threshold crossed! Please select a Class.]

Nine points. I place two in heart, one in power, six in vessel.

Lv. 10

Heart: 12

Power: 3

Vessel: 23

Before I get a chance to talk to my friends, or look at the classes, the system chimes up again. 

[Dungeon: Dreadburg cleared! All participants will be granted rewards.]

[Reward: 1 Tonic, food, water, 1 minor request.]

I look at that last part. It feels like the prompt is waiting for me, growing faintly more impatient as the seconds tick by. What does minor even mean? The prodding becomes incessant.

“Give me something to help practice controlling mana,” I say.

[Reward: 1 minor mana maze.]

Okay. That settles it. This system definitely has a thing for plays on words. All my skills start with “S” and end with “ion”, too. Then, as if to distract me from that thought, things begin to manifest in front of me. 

The food is disappointing. It’s dried or canned stuff, mainly plants and grains. Edible, definitely. There is a salt shaker, too, though it’s only halfway filled. The water is a simple little floating bubble, encased in a layer of mana, and I swipe it up into my bottle. 

What really interests me is the tonic. A bit of red liquid inside a glassy liquid. A healing potion? The name sounds a little too fancy for that. But then again, what do I know? 

Comparatively, the mana puzzle looks mundane. It’s a small, brass cube, though it feels a little heavy. There’s a few channels carved into it, and I’m curious to know how it’s supposed to help me practice. I look forward to it. 

“Holy hell, that was badass, Snow!” Opal says with a laugh. “How’d you do that? The king just stopped. Did it get demoralized or something?”

I smile, just a little. “It’s one of my skills. [Suppression]. I use it as a debuff.”

They grin. “That’s awesome. Mine are [Bound Armament] and [Blink].” They then pointed at the girl in the wheelchair. “That’s Amelie. Hers are [Elasticity] and [Puppeteer].”

She looks at me. “You’re Snow?” she asks, her voice neutral.

“Yeah,” I say.

“I’d have thought you would be taller,” she notes.

I tilt my head. “Why?”

“Opal talked about you a bit. They gave me a… strong impression,” she says.

Not knowing how to reply to that, I just shrug slightly. “Well,” I say. “This is me.” Will the apocalypse change that, though? Remains to be seen, I suppose. I’m curious just how invasive this system is.

Actually, there is a little more I can find out about it just now, isn’t there? “Show me my class selection,” I say.

Chapter 278: A Lesson

Chapter 278: A Lesson

“What even are you?” matriarch Joo Sung demanded. 

“A cultivator,” Mercury said with a shrug.

Joo Jidong stared, wide-eyed at the remnants of the clash. All that remained was a trickle of metallic blood on the ground. “Fascinating,” he said. “You must have a strong metal qi technique. Are those the iron-forged bones of the Yun clan?”

Smiling softly, Mercury shook his head. “No clan,” he replied. “I am but a rogue cultivator. No leaders, no ancestry or lineage. I stand by my own strength, and by that imbued in me by those who taught me. These bones I learnt from my smithing teacher.”

“Tell us the name of this esteemed blacksmith,” matriarch Sung said, her eyes still narrowed on Mercury.

Once more, the mopaaw just shook his head. “No,” he said. “I will not.”

Matriarch Sung narrowed her eyes even further, still holding her glaive. “You stand in the hall of our ancestors, boy,” she said. “You will tell me what I wish to know or face the wrath of a hundred generations of the Joo clan.”

Zyl snickered at that, and she turned her glare at the dragon. Defensively, he raised his palms. “Hey, hey, don’t give me that look. It’s just funny. Like, do you want us to kill your ancestors over this?”

“You dare?!” matriarch Sung hissed, stepping forward.

Sighing, Zyl stepped at her as well. “I dare,” he said. “I tire of this charade, so I dare. Let us exchange pointers if you will.”

The old woman gritted her teeth, baring them as she spun her glaive. “Very well,” she said. “Let me-” she swung before she finished the sentence.

The dragon grabbed the glaive by the blade, stopping the swing dead in its tracks.

Matriarch Sung stared. Joo Jidong stared. Zyl gently closed his palm around the metal, then flicked his wrist, snapping off the blade. Matriarch Sung’s eyes widened, and Zyl carefully handed over the blade to Mercury.

The mopaaw gave a thin smile at that, making a show of it. “My, how incredible. A lump of refined spirit iron. Truly, what a rare treasure. To find it laying around,” he said, fixing the old woman with a glint in his eyes. “How fortunate.”

For just a moment, matriarch Sung bared her teeth, looking ready to launch herself at the dragon, when Joo Jidong stepped in front of her. The old man’s face was weary. Tired of this charade. Matriarch Sung just barely halted herself from crashing through his frail frame. “Joo Jidong, what is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

And the doctor sighs. He turns to the matriarch with tired eyes, exhaustion set into his bones. “Cease this violence,” he said.

“You dare give me orders?” the woman bit back.

Joo Jidong stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “That was not an order. It is a request. There is no point to this violence. They are right. We have been killing and sending children to their deaths to get our clan more wealth. There must be an end to this. There must be.”

Joo Sung sneered. “There is an end - once the Yung clan is finished. Once all their lands are ours and the Joo clan prospers.”

Shaking his head, Joo Jidong’s eyes turned glassy and wet. “No,” he said. “No, that cannot be the end of it. We cannot keep up this violence.”

“We must,” matriarch Sung insisted.

“I refuse,” the old physician said with a bone-deep sigh. He took a deep breath, standing up a little straighter, even as his bent spine creaked. “I refuse.” He repeated the words and it was like a spell lifting from him, a stone falling off his heart. Palpable relief coursed through his weary bones. “It ends now.”

Joo Sung stared at him. “You cannot refuse your matriarch!” 

Shrugging, Joo Jidong smiled. “Or what? You will throw me out of the clan? You will kill me? I am an old man, Sung-er. I was an adult when you were born. What do I still have? A few meagre years?” He shook his head. “It matters not. I tire. Kill me if you must.”

And that, for the first time, made the old woman hesitate. Her grip tightened on the shaft of her broken glaive, knuckles whitening as her teeth ground against each other. She was angry. At the world, at the audacity of those who refused her. In one single day her world, her status-quo had been upturned.

But there was no outlet for that anger. She could scream and cry as much as she wanted, but there was no point. No outcome in which it would go any better than this. In rage, all she did was scream and slam the shaft of her broken weapon into the ground.

Stone cracked, and tiny splinters of rock dug into Mercury’s skin. But he still just stood and watched. His eyes were on the woman, his hands folded behind his back. This was a temper tantrum, nothing more. So long as she stopped their pointless little war, he was happy to let her be.

“Get out,” the woman eventually managed. 

For a long moment, Mercury was silent, watching her. Seeing the way her face contorted in rage and grief. And then, with a shrug, he grabbed Mira, slinging the unconscious girl over his shoulder, and turned. Zyl and Joo Jidong soon followed. They walked across the thresholds, and the attendants outside quickly turned to them. 

Mercury waved them off, sitting on the ground, leaning against one of the stone walls of this place. Slowly, he turned to Joo Jidong. “Why’d you do it?” he asked, casually.

The old physician flinched for a moment, as if torn from a trance, then turned to Mercury. “Huh?” he asked, then shook his head. “Oh, it’s… because little Ina was miserable,” he said, helplessly raising his hands. “She was miserable here. The expectations of the family, of the martial world, they were too much. She failed in her training, admonished by her tutors, mocked for failing talents as the direct heir… and so she wanted to run.”

He turned to Mercury, helplessly. “What was I to do?” he asked, voice cracking. “Let that little girl suffer? Put in a world that didn’t accept her? I raised her like my own granddaughter, cultivator Starlight. And to see her crying, asking me to help…” he grimaced. “I could not turn her down.”

Nodding gently, Mercury just sighed. “Being soft-hearted is no sin,” he said. “This world could use more kindness. But as you live, it is your duty to grieve the blood spilled over this.”

“Every day,” Joo Jidong whispered. “Every day I grieve it.”

Cruelly, Mercury shook his head. “You do not,” he said. “But you will.”

“What?” Joo Jidong asked, not knowing what he meant, but Mercury didn’t elaborate anymore. He just waved a hand. Then, the mopaaw closed his eyes, and waited.

- - -

It took about an hour for matriarch Sung to leave the chamber. Eventually, she stepped out, looking a half decade older. She sighed, and looked at Mercury for a moment, before just waving her hand. With that, he and Zyl rose to their feet, and soon, they had blindfolds wrapped around their eyes again.

For a little while, Mercury wondered if they’d try to assassinate them. But surprisingly, nothing happened. No knives in his back, no one trying to cut his head off. Instead, the walk was just quiet and sombre. 

After a little trip up the stairs, it was dark in the entrance hall. Many of the elders that had welcomed them before were already gone. Mira was sleeping soundly in her room, and matriarch Sung sat tiredly in her damaged throne. It had not yet been fixed. Her fingers tapped rhythmically on the part of the wood that was still intact, and by now, a scowl had found its way back to her face.

“I am unhappy with you,” she said simply, at Mercury.

He just nodded. “Of course, I imagine you would be.”

“You come in and upturn my entire clan in a single day,” she said. “You undermine my authority. You make my physician betray me. You give me no face in the slightest.”

“That seems like an exaggeration,” Mercury said with a pout.

Joo Sung just scoffed at him. “It may be. But that is your burden to bear.” Then, for a long time, she remained silent, eventually giving another small sigh. “I will send an envoy to the Yung clan to let them know come morning. They will meet here soon.” Then, she waved a hand, dismissing them. “Go. Someone will guide you to a guest room. Leave me be.”

Nodding faintly, Mercury let himself be walked off. And then, with a final motion, the large doors shut on the old woman, leaving her alone in the dark.

- - -

When Mercury awakened, it was to a ray of sunshine lazily crawling through a window. It tickled his nose for a moment, then heated it up, and soon, his skin burned and sizzled. That’s when he quickly hid underneath a blanket.

“Zyl,” he said, shaking his boyfriend. “Zyl, the sun is being really mean to me.”

The dragon stirred awake with lazy motions, slowly cracking open an eye. “Hmmm?” he hummed in question, voice still raspy and sleep-drunk. “Mmmh,” he hummed a second later, sprouting wings and spreading them wide. The red, leathery appendages quickly hid Mercury from the sunlight, at least enough to let him put on his veil and manifest his robe. Then, he cast a small spell to cover the window. 

And for a little while longer, he let the world mind its own business.

Around midday, perhaps a little after that, though, someone was at his door. “Hello?” Mira demanded from the other side, banging her fist against the wood. “Hellooo?!” 

Sighing softly, Mercury dragged himself out of bed fully. His robe wove itself from stormclouds, and the black metal of his pants rippled as he walked. He smelled of ozone and hunger. And then, he pulled open the door.

Joo Mira yelped as the wood she’d been leaning on disappeared and almost fell, catching herself at the last moment with a superhuman step. “You stepped on my toes,” Mercury noted drily.

Instantly, the girl flushed and pulled back, standing up ramrod straight and saluting him. “Apologies, esteemed cultivator!” she yelled. “I’ve been assigned as your caretaker for this stay and wanted to apologize for my tardiness, as I was still unconscious!”

Mercury raised an eyebrow. “You’re sorry for… being knocked out?” he asked.

“Yes, sir!” Mira said instantly, the tips of her ears flushing red. “I bring shame to my family, I will accept any punishment-”

Waving his hand, Mercury clapped her on the shoulder. “All forgiven. There are no grudges from these guests.” For a moment, the girl’s eyes widened, but then she rapidly nodded. Before she could say something about duty or honor, though, Mercury spoke again. “So, what has you in such an uproar?” 

She stared at him for a long moment, then slouched a bit, that tiredness he’d grown used to from her sneaking the way back into the interaction. “The matriarch,” she said. “She’s sent a message to the Yung clan. They’re set to arrive here in only an hour. I wanted to tell you so that you esteemed guests could get ready.”

Mercury smiled. “Why, what would outsiders like us be doing at a meeting between the Joo and Yung clans? Surely we’d be unwanted.”

Instantly, Mira stammered, looking for words, until Zyl snickered, wrapped his arms around Mercury’s neck, and spoke. “Stop bullying the kid, Mercury,” he drawled, then turned to Mira. “We’ll be ready. Could you pick us up in an hour?” he asked, and Mira hastily nodded, then shut the door on them.

“An hour?” Mercury asked, raising an eyebrow.

Zyl laughed softly, then nodded, pinching the mopaaw’s cheek. “That’s if I hurry, you rascal. Not all of us can just wear a veil. Some of us need to ‘put in effort’ and ‘look good’ or something.” Already, he was pulling make-up and hair-gel from his inventory, leaving Mercury to relax for just a little while longer as his boyfriend got ready.

Then, an hour later, Mira led them downstairs into the entry hall.

- - - 

Yung NamJi, patriarch of the Yung clan, was a severe looking man. His hair was a shale shade of grey, like rock, and his robes did an elegant job at hiding his bulky frame. Stern eyes were fixed on matriarch Sung while his hand absent-mindedly brushed his short beard.

“So, you say this poisoning was a fake,” he repeated the matriarch’s words.

“Yes,” Joo Sung confirmed.

Patriarch NamJi hummed solemnly at that, giving a grave nod. “So all your fighting, this entire time, has been unlawful?”

At that, matriarch Sung bristled. “No,” she said. “That is untrue.”

“Ah, but didn’t you conduct a first raid on our territories because of this offense? To reclaim face?” he asked. “Perhaps it would have done you better to simply investigate properly, Joo Sung.”

The old woman grit her teeth in anger. Already, disrespect was being tossed as easily as rotten fish. “Our first attack was out of line, yes,” she admitted. “But after that it was all fine. Your counterattack gave us ample reason to continue the fight.”

“A fight that only started because you let your own heir fool you,” Yung Namji harshly accused. 

Shaking his head, Mercury sighed. “You did the same,” he said calmly. “Your scion orchestrated the poisoning.”

The old man narrowed his eyes at the sudden incursion, and an elder behind him took up the word. “We exiled our young master! Whatever was his business is his business, not the clan’s!” she demanded.

“Untrue,” matriarch Sung said. “If your young master did this, helped our little Ina escape, then you should have made him say the truth. You exiled him for something he did not do. By that, you insult yourself and you insult him.”

Scoffing, the Yung clan leader retorted swiftly. “Are you defending our young master’s honor now? A child whose death you called for?”

Joo Sung bared her teeth, leaning forward. “If his family won’t do it, then I suppose it falls upon the Joo clan to show him face.”

“You are courting death!” Yung NamJi spat, taking a step forward. Killing intent filled the chamber. 

“We are doing the opposite!” matriarch Sung said, standing from her throne. “We are asking you to end this pointless feud!” 

“Show us some face first!” another elder of the Yung clan demanded. “We want fifty kilogram of spirit iron ore, five-thousand gold coins, the Xein district-”

Matriarch Sung slammed her foot down, silencing them. “You ask for the hair on my head, you greedy old vulture!” she bellowed. “The Joo clan will pay reparations to you, but be reasonable!”

For a little while longer, the elders and clan leaders spat insults back and forth. Mercury watched in some amount of frustration as brokering a trade deal seemed, frankly, impossible. The Yung clan demanded outrageous sums, and the Joo clan wanted to save money wherever they could.

“How did they even survive this long?” Mercury wondered, whispering to himself.

Instantly, a hundred faces with enhanced hearing turned to him, their frowns and chilling killing intent spilling forth like a tidal wave of anger. It felt like a dozen swords were at his throat. 

“What did you say, worm?! Who even are you?” Yung NamJi bellowed. 

Mercury tilted his head softly, then smiled. He gracefully cupped his fist, and gave a tiny nod of his head. “I am but a rogue cultivator, current guest of the Joo clan. A travelling blacksmith if you will.”

The Yung clan patriarch sneered at that declaration. “A rogue cultivator? You dare? You are courting death!” he said, head red in fury. “Kowtow to me three times right now, and I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“No,” Mercury said, calmly. 

For a brief moment, Yung Namji’s left eye twitched. Then, the temperature in the room dropped to freezing. Ice pressed against Mercury’s skin, the inevitability of steel and death tickling his nose. 

He sneezed.

“Boy,” patriarch NamJi said, the words a threat from his lips. “Show us some face. We are the Yung clan, rulers of the-”

“Hey,” Mercury interrupted, still wearing that same smile, that same cold, calm voice. “Shut the fuck up, yeah?”

Dead silence.

“What did you say, landless worm?!” Yung NamJi demanded.

“I told you to shut your ugly mouth, old man,” Mercury said with a sigh, purposely provoking him. “You’ve told me to kowtow, and it pisses me off. People don’t bow to their lessers. I will never kneel, especially not to some washed-up has-been nobody shitstain like you, fucker. Your mother should be ashamed for giving birth to you.”

With every word he spoke, Mercury watched the patriarch’s face go redder as the elders of the Joo clan turned paler and paler. The temperature in the room dropped even further, the killing intent so strong that even elders began to stagger back from Yung NamJi. 

“Worm,” the old man hissed through gritted teeth. “Tell me your name. I will butcher your family for seven generations and drape your entrails across this hall.”

“Make a bet with me,” Mercury said calmly. “Just a small bet. If you manage to touch me with that sword of yours, I’ll kowtow to you. Thrice,” he said. “But if you cannot touch me, then you will accept reparations of 500 gold coins and leave this. End this pointless feud. No more war, no more butchering of children.”

“Bet,” the old man said, anger still flooding his veins. “Let everyone hear this! The rogue cultivator has accepted an honorable duel! The conditions are clear to everyone in this room!” he bellowed, drawing his sword. A crushing pressure descended on Mercury, and people around the room gasped.

“He has reached enlightenment!” one of the Joo elders said, mouth gaping open. “The Heaven’s Press technique must be weighing a hundred tons, now!”

A sinister smile spread on the old man’s face as he strode towards Mercury. The wooden floorboard cracked under the effects of his technique - and Mercury wondered about it. Was it metal aspected? Gravity, perhaps? The magic had a strange feeling to it, one he couldn’t quite place.

It was heavy, terribly heavy even. But at the same time, that heaviness was split - only half of it was physical. The other half pressed on his mind. It was an illusion of weariness, a spiritual pressure of lethargy. What a curious little technique, Mercury thought.

Then he stood up from his chair.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then, the first of the Elders yelled at the sight. “He stands! He stands under the Heaven’s Press!”

Frowning, Yung NamJi sped up. “This is nothing!” he said, his sword already trailing a beautiful arc through the air. The first form of the Yung family’s swordsmanship - the <Heaven Upturning Wheel> - crashed through the room, carving across the floorboards, splitting wood and sending splinters flying.

Tilting his head softly, Mercury triggered <Astral Advent>. 

His mind blossomed out of itself. Mercury hatched from within the egg that was his own idea of limits. He thought, and his <Oceanic Consciousness> overclocked. The world slowed down. Time became an illusion, a quaint little thing that his thoughts moved independently of.

[<Astral Advent> has levelled up! <Astral Advent lv. 4 -> 5>]

Already, his eyes peered into the technique. He watched carefully as the seconds ticked by, a small headache spreading behind his eyes, and yet he paid attention. He felt awake, alive, as he always did in moments like this.

Mercury was merciful. He was kind. But he wasn’t a pushover.

This man had, very genuinely, pissed him off. He could handle being talked down to. Insulted, belittled, all of that was fine. But told to kneel? He drew his border there. Oberon had paid for the same request, and this old man intended to take his respect by force?

He was not old enough for that. One would need to be at least as old as old Uunrahzil to earn Mercury’s respect, and for that, even this fossil was born too soon. In an instant, all his minds solidified. Walls of horribly solid rijn grew in the air like flowers. They should have cascaded - each one weaker than the last, but Mercury did not allow it.

Not this time. He felt it right then. A strange resonance.

For a day, Mercury had slept well. He was rested, fresh, and had been in good spirits. Then those spirits were ruined. He saw the entire world laid out of him, and felt his own internals more than ever before. Until now, his minds had always been cascading. One step after another.

But, right now, after that sleep, in this world of slowed time, he felt they were all a little similar. And right now, he didn’t let any of them be weak or strong. They were all the same.

His rezil shaped reality. His will to alter the world.

There was a resonance between his zeyjn - the split parts of his mind. A resonance with the world, and that was when he found that rezil did not care about reason. It cared about possibility, about connection. And what was more connected than his own mind to itself.

One moment passed. His zeyjn, all of them, tuned to perfect harmony. They resonated with each other, and their amplitudes grew endlessly. Soon, he could not see the difference anymore, and in a moment, cascading became resonant.

[Ystirs: 128/64/32/16/8 -> 128 x 5

Zejyn: 5, Cascading -> Resonant

Rijn: Malleable, Adamant, Anchored

Ihn’ar: Effortless, 3rd Veil

Rezil: Alteration, Concept Synchronized]

And, in a moment, his minds grew stronger yet. Mercury smiled, happy at finding yet more depth within himself. And, all at once, he summed his rijn, all five of them, all equally strong, solid plates of invisible will. On top of that, he grabbed patriarch NamJi with all the hand his <Force of the Hecatoncheires> offered.

Only then did he let time resume.

[<Oceanic Consciousness> has levelled up! <Oceanic Consciousness lv. 9 -> 10>]

[<Oceanic Consciousness> has met the necessary qualifications for evolution. Evolve? (800 Skill points)]

In that single moment, the spinning blade that was patriarch NamJi crashed into Mercury’s rijn. A hundred hands of force wrapped around him, and his spin dragged, then crashed. His sword aura, enhanced by enlightenment and decades of training met Mercury’s rijn - and faltered. 

The metal blade dragged, crashed, and cracked. Brutally, the blade wrenched itself from the old man’s hands, slamming into another one of the invisible barriers. It was brutal and violent, and the old man crashed into the barrier only a moment later.

His bones did about as well as one could reasonably expect. They didn’t break, but there was a snap of ligaments breaking as his limbs were pushed to flex too far, brought to their limits. The old man let out a pitiful huff as the air was knocked from his lungs. One moment to another, the trail of splinters and destruction through the hall stopped.

One moment to another, patriarch NamJi went from being a brutal bringer of death to a ragdoll. 

Silence hung thick in the air. Mercury broke it with his steps. Still holding onto the elder with his ghost hands, he dispelled his rijn, and the old man’s sword weakly dropped down. Mercury gingerly caught it out of the air, and smiled politely. 

“How surprising,” he said. “I just so happened to find a lump of hundred-year fire silver here. How lucky.”

Elders gnashed their teeth around the hall, but no one spoke. Might made right in the martial world, after all, so even when the blatant lie and theft made their blood boil, they had no words for it. 

Very slowly, Mercury lowered patriarch NamJi down to his level. Very gently, he reached out a hand, and triggered <Truth>. “You have no injuries,” Mercury said.

<Medicine>, absorbed into <Unravel>, hummed to life. Power flooded out of Mercury, and there was a second sickening noise as the old man suddenly went right back to how he’d been beforehand. His ankles went back in place, his fingers turned limber once more. Even longer aches, an old injury to his back, and a pulled muscle from a long forgotten fight… all of them were restored.

And then, Mercury set him down. Patriarch NamJi stared at the mopaaw with unadulterated shock. His mouth hung open. 

For his own part, Mercury just smiled, then patted the old man’s shoulder. “Well,” he said happily. “Seems like you don’t have a sword anymore! We can go again, of course, if you want.” Mercury said, a glint in his eyes.

The clan leader shook his head.

Smiling happily, Mercury nodded. “That’s what I thought. Take your reparations and be peaceful now, yes?” he said gently, patting the man again, then turned to matriarch Sung. “And do be sure to pay the five-hundred gold. I wouldn’t want to need to come back.”

Finally, he addressed the entire hall. “I have solved this petty feud for you. Hopefully, from today onward, your families won’t spill blood against each other anymore. Learn to be peaceful. Learn a little humility. There are mountains beyond the mountains. Do not lose sight of your goals for your greed.”

His words were met with silence, and he said one more thing as Zyl rose from his chair. “And remember,” Mercury spoke. His voice was quiet, but impactful, ringing heavily through the hall. “Be kind to each other. Remember this lesson, remember that cultivator Starlight serves no one. Comes from nowhere. And that he kneels to no one.”

With that, he gave them a wave, and then walked off, Zyl soon joining by his side. Mercury wore a thin smile, his built up annoyance like a leaf in the wind. Shame that he wouldn’t get to do more smithing.

But they did donate some wonderful materials out of the kindness of their heart, and he also had a new Skill to evolve. And more places to see. The future was still bright.

“Senior!” Mira called. “Wait!” 

Mercury decidedly started walking faster.

Magic Breaker Ch 10-12

Chapter 10: Heights

[Suppression 3 > 4]

The night passes and [Suppression] levels up again. With my enhanced senses I can see what changed. The way the mana moves changes a little. In fact, each time I cast it, I manually adjust the flow a bit, just to see what changes. 

Now, with another level, it crashes down on the little parasite even harder. It can barely move under my skin anymore. “Get rekt, little fricker,” I whisper.

Eventually, my party members wake up, one after another. 

Thatch is the first. A single ray of sunlight comes through the window, hits his face, and he wakes up. Does [Piercing Gaze] let him see through his eyelids? It definitely let him see through my skin. Is it passive or active?

Questions upon questions. 

I see him stir, stretch, yawn, and get up. He looks around, and spots me. “Whoa,” he says, first. “Holy fucking shit.”

I tilt my head. “What’s up?”

He looked around. “Holy shit!”

A small smile spreads on my face again. “Thatch. I got no idea what you’re seeing.”

“Right,” he mutters. “Right!” Then he turns to me. “Snow, I-”

“Urrrrgh,” Inu groans. She stirs awake. “It was hard enough to fall asleep, Thatch. Quiet down. Please.”

He flinches a little. “Right. Sorry,” he whispers. “Snow can we…” he gestures for the door.

Smiling softly, I nod. “Of course.”

We head outside so as to not wake the others. As soon as the door snaps shut again behind us, Thatch breaks out into a wide grin. “The world’s so different from yesterday, Snow. I can see everything. I can see… beneath your skin, y’know? I can see that dark blob, I can see your nerve clusters, I can see the way mana flows through you.”

I tilt my head a little. “Thatch? Have you been… peeking?”  

“Huh?” he asks, confused. Then, as I move to cover myself, it dawns on him. His face turns bright red. “I- No!! Absolutely not!” he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You know I’d never, I’m not like that!”

Sagely, I nod, stifling a smile. “Right,” I say, putting as much doubt into my voice as possible. “Of course.”

He turns even more red. “You’re such a jerk,” he says, then laughs, quietly. “But… it’s weird.  I couldn’t see as much yesterday.”

“Things changed overnight. Adjusted sensory parameters,” I tell him.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

I shrug. “Don’t know much more than you. I can sense mana, though. Not yours. Well, not passively. If I focus… Yeah. I can feel it coursing through you.”

“That’s wild,” Thatch says. 

Then, the door opens, and Inu steps out. Her hair is a bit of a mess, and she’s rubbing one eye. “Yeah, no,” she says. “Not sleeping. I can feel your excitement through the walls. Stupid frigging empathy skill.”

Thatch gives her a sheepish grin and scratches the back of his head. “Sorry!”

Inu just rolls her eyes, uncrossing her arms. “It’s fine.” She looks to me. “Snow. Your goals right now are Opal and Sylves, right?”

I nod.

“Think we could reach them if we like… stormed a radio tower? Deal out a broadcast?”

For a moment, I consider the idea, then shake my head. “I doubt it,” I say. “The eyes seem to be messing with satellite signals, and there was apparently some terraforming during the night.”

“Terraforming?” she asks. “Wait. Did you not sleep?”

“No,” I say. “Hard to when there is something actively eating me from the inside.”

“Oh, fuck,” Inu says, eyeing my side. [Empathy] must be telling her where the pain is coming from. 

“Working on it,” I assure her, and she gives a small nod. “But yeah. I was up. During midnight, there were two notifications. First, our senses were changed and our limits removed. I think humans can now grow… well, pretty much infinitely stronger with working out. Same for our minds. Second message was about being fused with a different planet. Maybe multiple.”

“Shit,” Inu says.

“Yeah,” I nod. “It’ll make finding Opal and Syvles hard.”

“Where would they go?” Thatch asks. “If we can get in their heads…”

“Opal would run into a dungeon headfirst, probably,” I say. They look at me with confusion. “Right. Dungeons are a thing, apparently.”

Inu nods. “Like a game.”

“Exactly. Syvles… I think she’d go looking for us.” There weren’t many places for her to go. She’d grown up in an assisted living facility, since her parents were abusive. She was still in contact with the caretakers from back then, but she’d long since moved out. 

Thatch hums to himself a little. “Maybe…” he starts, unsure. I give him a look, and he continues. “Maybe if I get to a high place. Somewhere we can see all the city from. I could find them?”

It’s not exactly great odds, but there is a chance. A high point. There are some observation towers nearby. But to really see everything… well, given the terraforming, things might have changed.

I nod at the suggestion. “Alright. We’ll do that.”

With the decision made, we head back inside. Inu wakes up her parents, and Thatch shakes his mom awake. Norman makes sure to complain about his back as he wakes up, even though he’d taken the bed. Bay seems relatively fit, and Jess is quiet, as usual. Inu and Thatch explain what happened during the night.

They take longer to get ready than I’d like. I quickly sling my backpack around myself, suppressing a wince at the movement. As I wait on the others, I play around a little more with mana.

Moving the tiny thing I solidified around, for example. I can control it and the way it moves through the air. I move it around myself, seeing just how fast I can spin it, until we’re ready to move. 

Inu signals me with a nod, and I open the door. “We’ll be looking for a point of elevation today,” I tell them. “To find out if Thatch can find Opal or Sylves with one of his skills.”

There is some grumbling at that, namely from Norman. “Another hike,” he complains.

“Yes,” I say, loudly. “Another hike, Norman. The world is ending. There’s probably aliens out there. More monsters, new sapient species. We know nothing about them. Right now, everything is on the table. Mental manipulation, slavery, other species that hunt humans for sport, Norman.”

He flinches, but I don’t let up.

“So, we’re going to go out there. Because right now, our odds are best. This isn’t going to get any easier, alright? People will level. I’m not letting other humans get ahead of me.”

At that, his face firms up. He nods, just once, then looks away. “I get it,” he says. “I get it, okay? Let’s move already.”

Without replying, I turn around, walking down the stairs.

- - -

The world outside has changed.

Buildings and rubble are pushed further apart. Between them there are lakes of emerald water and forests of blueish plants. It looks a little like a patchwork puzzle, half festering into each other.

Pieces of concrete and road work are in between trees. Vines climb up grocery stores and car wrecks. Shattered glass gathers on the shores of the small lakes.

I looked around, for a high point, and there are a few. Observation towers, hills, distant dunes of sand… But one sticks out above all. In the middle of the city, where the botanical garden used to be, there was a hill. It was high, higher than anything around it, and at the very top of that hill, there was a castle.

It was made from grey stone, with walls, ramparts, an enormous gate, the whole works. “That… seems to be the highest point,” I say.

Inu pokes me with her elbow. “You’re smiling again,” she says.

There’s no reason to defend myself, so I don’t bother. Instead, I just nod. “Yeah,” I say. 

“It’s a friggen castle!” Thatch says. “You usually only see those in Europe! Even there, most were bombed in the last war!”

Bae furrows her brows. “I don’t know if that’s safe.” Jess nods to agree.

“I’m pretty positive it’s a dungeon,” Inu notes.

Again, I nod. “Let’s go, then.”

People groan, but follow. I’m unsure if the adults know what dungeons mean. I look back at them for a moment. Would all of them survive? My eyes go to Inu, then Thatch. 

I’d make sure they lived, at least. And hopefully their parents, too. Wouldn’t want my friends to feel bad. 

Chapter 11: Groups

Humans are tribal creatures. I’ve always thought so, and my belief gets affirmed again when we try to leave the house.

The outside is a mess by now. The corpses don’t seem to stick around, instead slowly dissolving. It’s like they’re despawning, but only piece by piece. I see goblins, blood and flesh decaying into faint blue particles that soon turn invisible to my eyes and mana sense.

What surprises me is that it also happens to human corpses. The air feels… almost a little painful on my skin. 

In fact, I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels it. Inu absentmindedly scratches the wound on her shoulder. Thatch seems to shudder. And all around us, there are huddling and walking groups of survivors.

The city streets are bustling again but it’s noisy. Hostile. People glare at each other, looking combative. I look around, too. 

Men and women are huddled around small fires, having scavaged wood from the bits of greenery in the city. There’s sirens in the distance. I ignore them, and am tempted to put on my headphones again. There’s a reason I don’t leave the house without them, after all.

Worst case, I might have to steal some, as a backup. I notice a girl with some earbuds in…

“The hell’s up with you, bitch?” a man asks me. “Stop looking at my girlfriend like that. Fucker.”

I tilt my head, my eyes drifting to the woman’s earbuds again. Do I need a backup? 

Inu grabs my shoulder. “C’mon Snow. Don’t mind them,” she says, glancing at the man. “We don’t want any trouble. Just spent the night.”

He frowns, but nods. “Fine then. Be on your way.”

I turn to walk.

“Actually, wait!” someone else calls out. This is another guy, tall, handsome, brownish-blond hair and warm eyes. He wears a jeans-jacket and a pair of khakis. I look at my own ragged clothing, the half-melted sweater and a long sleeve I stole from Opal’s closet. It’s too big, but it’s comfy, and covers all my skin in a way that doesn’t make me wanna scratch it off, so I don’t mind. 

“Yes, what’s up?” Inu asks, looking at him. 

He smiles at her. I tighten my grip more. Just to be sure, I [Select] him. I don’t think he notices. “Hey. Name’s Vincent. We wanted to ask if you’d like to join our group,” he says, pointing behind him. There are a few people with him, mostly adults. “We’re trying to camp out this whole situation, y’know? Wait ‘till things are normal again.”

Thatch shakes his head. “Sorry, man,” he says, “no can do. We’re still looking for some of our friends.” 

“We could help you look, if you’d like!” the handsome guy suggests. A few members of his group roll their eyes. 

“Thank you, but we’ll manage, I’m sure,” Inu says. 

“Oh come on, doll-” he starts.

I step forward, interrupting his speech. He’s taller than me. Bigger. Stronger. And yet, I’m not scared of him. Wonderful what a few knives and a bit of magic will do. “Back off,” I tell him.

He raises his hands defensively, giving a disarming smile. “Hey now, don’t worry, friend! I wasn’t doing nothing. Just trying to help.” He smells of flowers and iron and sweat. Rancid.

“We turned you down,” I tell him.

“Yeah, I was just saying-”

“We turned you down,” I repeat.

At that, his brows crease. “C’mon, hear us out. We gotta stick together, don’t we? People helping people.”

I look at him. “Scram,” I say.

“What?” he asks, confused. “You really don’t needa be so hostile-”

He reaches out to grab me, in the casual way that people so often do.

It would be a light touch, just my shoulder. Just a little bit of one. 

Fucking disgusting.

[Suppression] slams into him, and I shoot forward one of the rice-grains of solidified mana I keep with me. It stabs into his hand, just like a tiny needle, and then I disintegrate it.

My mana spills forth in the middle of his body. It clashes against his, destabilizing his skills, briefly making him wobble, and my skill does the rest. [Suppression] is like a physical weight on him, and the man gasps, robbed of breath by the sudden weight. 

Without hesitation, I kick his shin, and he stumbles to his knees. I press the butt of my axe against his forehead. “I’m particular about my personal space,” I tell him calmly. “Please don’t try to touch me.”

He doesn’t answer, stunned by the sudden violence, I’m guessing. I give him a moment to gather his bearings. When he tries to talk, I press the pommel against him harder. “Close your mouth,” I say. “Scram.”

For once, he seems to think, and just grimaces. I take a step back, and he gets up, stumbling back to his group. They look at me with confusion, but overall don’t seem to take me too seriously, laughing at the guy for getting so suddenly trounced.

None of them felt or saw my skill activate. I deselect him, focussing both my skills on the pain in my side again. The little critter took its chance to wriggle.

Thatch looks at me and I shoot him a faint smile. “C’mon,” I say. “Let’s go.”

- - -

On the way to the castle, the “adults” try to lecture me on violence for a little bit, but I ignore them. Inu and Thatch are on my side. They both saw that the guy’s vibes were fucking rancid. 

Adults don’t always get that. He was just a little older than me, maybe two or three years. But the overly familiar act? Gross. What a weirdo. 

Norman tries to put a hand on my shoulder, too, but Inu catches his wrist and pulls him back. That makes me smile. She must’ve talked with them about boundaries before, I’m sure. 

Honestly, I’m glad they have a distraction from the way the world is changing. With my sensitivity unlocked, I can feel the mana in the air. Just faintly, a tingling in the back of my mind, but I reach out to it, and try to find it.

The sensation of pin pricks against my skin returns, but it’s stronger. Still, my own mana courses inside my body, stopping the needle-like probing from going any further. I think that it’s this kind of external pressure that may be assimilating the corpses.

It makes me think. Are we supposed to craft in this world? Our bodies have clearly changed, and it said our limits were removed, but what else? Magical items seem reasonable to assume, but how do we make them? Do materials not despawn if harvested? Do we have some kind of inventory?

My clothes and backpack aren’t disintegrating, so clearly the mana acts with some sort of nuance. Does it recognize ownership of some kind? Do the monsters drop something when fully disintegrated? 

I wanna know more. I think of dissecting a few goblins, but trying on the half-disintegrated corpses seems… pointless, somehow. Like they’re already lost. Would any promising materials just survive the erosion?

“Snow?” Inu asks me, stopping my train of thought.

“Yeah?”

She nods forward. More people. It’s a crossroads and a plaza, now filled with humans. They huddle around improvised tables, eating rations, talking. There are barricades along the edges, made from metal scrap. I almost wanna laugh. 

Two days. It took two days of the end of the world before things came to this. 

“Is there a way around it?” I ask.

“No. Thatch checked. Most nearby roads are blocked the same way. Seems people are being led here by police for some kinda announcement,” she says.

I nod, faintly, and keep solidifying grains of mana, collecting them in a pocket. There are a few dozen of the things by now, all slowly withering away. I think they can last maybe a day. Which makes them useful as little disruption pellets.

“Let’s see what they’re about then,” I say, walking forward some more.

As we walk forward, I can feel the mana changing. The incessant buzzing against my ears is replaced by a more gentle ambiance. Are the other humans leaking mana? Is it somehow more tolerable than what generally exists in the world? Are we being encouraged to herd together?

Is this a ploy to manufacture some kinda slaughter?

We walk up to the square. There are people standing “guard”. They look like ragged survivors, like everyone else. Torn clothing, small bloodstains, the works. My eyes flick over them, assessing the danger. “Hey. Who are you?” they ask.

I happily let Inu and Thatch take care of it. They state their own names, those of everyone else, and so on. The guards just nod. “Right then. You here cuz the police sent ya?”

“We encountered a policewoman on our way here,” Inu says. “But we’re mostly looking for our friends.”

As if. I swipe my eyes over the crowd again. The mana here feels a little… sticky. No, there’s no way Opal or Sylves would have picked a place like this one. Sylves is too skittish, this would make her nervous, and Opal… I eye the castle. We’d be able to find Opal from there, hopefully.

“I see,” the guard says, eyes turning a little sympathetic. “Don’t cause trouble, don’t use skills on others, and stay safe. If you need food, there are tables in the middle of the plaza.”

“Got it,” Inu says with a smile. “Thank you.”

We walk in without trouble. I eye the crowd. I hope the whole “getting out” part won’t be any worse.

Chapter 12: Humans are Trouble

It’s worse. 

Of course, getting out is worse. We walk across the plaza to the other side, and the guard there looks at us, holding out a hand. “Sorry, uh, what are you doing?”

“We were planning on leaving,” Bay supplies. She’s looking impatient already.

“Ah, right, uh. Please stay until Mayor Hinterberg has given his speech,” he says.

Oh. Was that how it was gonna be?

Norman shrugged. “Well,” he said. “Guess we’re stuck.”

I looked from the guard, to him, then back to the guard. Jess smacks him with her elbow, gesturing at me, and he grimaces. Inu gives them a weak smile. “We really should work to find reliable people to team up with,” she says, trying to get her parents on board.

The guard smiles at that. “Yeah. Lots of people here. Just get talking, I’m sure you can find like minded people,” she says.

Thatch grimaces. “Not… quite what we meant. We got friends out there. That aren’t here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. This really shouldn’t take long, though. And it’s important to see, what with digital things being unavailable,” she says.

I glance at the sky. At the eyes bearing down. Jess and Norman don’t seem to mind staying, really. Inu and Thatch are fully on my side, and Bay seems to be on board with her son. I look at the guard.

She turned to me and gives a fake smile, the kind you put on when dealing with troublesome customers. “What is it?” she asks. “Can I… help you?”

“We would like to leave,” I say. I [Select] her.

“I’m sorry, please bear with us? I can get some police staff here to help explain it if you’d like to follow me?” 

Her smile is fake. Painted on. She smells of grime. Like old oil. The sticky kind, that gets on your fingers and doesn’t wash off. I wanna know more, and my skill twists to supply me with answers.

There is something off. Very off, here. The way the mana sticks to my skin is all wrong. I trust the pinpricks out there more. 

“We would like to leave,” I say. It makes me sound silly, almost like a parrot. I don’t usually repeat myself that much, but with people like this? Being a brick wall makes me less of a target. I want out. 

She grimaces with fake empathy. “Okay, I’ll just wave someone over,” she says, raising her arm.

“Come on Snow,” Norman says. “This seems… safe. We can stay a bit.”

I glance at Thatch. My gut twists, but he looks back at me and nods. He gets it. 

A second passes, and [Suppression] smacks into the woman. Then, without hesitation, Thatch lights up with [Rage]. He barrels forward, and when she tries to stop him, she fails. I feel her try to activate a skill, but I stifle it with my will. 

Bay’s eyes widen. “Hey!” she yelps, chasing after Thatch. “That’s dangerous!”

Using the chaos, I try to slip out, and so does Inu, but the guard reaches out to grab her. My blood runs cold. I double down, triple down on [Suppression]. My mana twists and burns, and the woman gasps for air, stumbling and choking.

[Suppression 4 > 5] 

Inu slips by, and I take a relieved breath, focusing more of my skill on the creature under my skin. Jess’s eyes widen, and she moves forward too. When the guard tries to stop her, the woman [Freezes] in place. Norman just sighs, and slips by undetected.

“Trouble,” he sighs. “You kids are all trouble. Inu, what are you thinking?” he starts arguing before we’re even out of earshot.

The mana pricks my skin again. A moment passes and I shift my skill fully back to the creature under my skin, suppressing it. The guard yells behind us, and tries to chase, but her feet are stuck to the ground.

- - -

We escape. It takes a chunk of running, some use of skills, and by the end of it, I’m panting and bleeding, but we escape. Blood thrums in my ears. My breath comes hard, but we keep walking anyway. Uphill, now. Towards the castle.

“What the hell was that about?!” Bay asks her son. “You storm off like that all of a sudden, do you have any idea what could happen?”

Thatch just smiles at her, scratching the back of his head. “Well,” he said. “I wanted out. It felt… off.” 

She rolls her eyes. “That’s why you just… sprinted out of there? Kid, you gotta think! There was police! What if you got shot?!”

I catch my breath and look over. Norman grumbles. “I’m with Bay. What’s so wrong with waiting a few hours, kids?”

Inu turns to him. For the first time, she looks a little angry. “Shut your mouth, dad. A few hours? Yeah fucking right. As if police shit ever takes ‘just a few hours’.”

He flinches at her words, then turns a little angry. “Don’t take that tone with me-”

“Or what?!” Inu demands. “The world is ending, dad. This isn’t a fucking joke. This isn’t a day where you can just sit it out and go back to work next week. Look at the sky. Look at it, dad. Look up.”

Norman doesn’t. He just gets red in the face. Angry. Jess lays a hand on his shoulder. “Back down, love,” she says. Her voice is calm. “I think they’re right.”

“We’re not kids,” Thatch adds. “We’re plenty adults.”

I smile. He says it almost with a pout, to the point where it becomes comical. But I back him up. “Norman,” I say, and the man’s gaze snaps to me. “We’ve killed two people in the last day.”

The words come out so calm that he freezes. 

“Thatch killed that policewoman. She used a skill on Bay, I’m pretty sure. A manipulative one. I killed an old man, who put an arrow through your daughter’s shoulder. We’ve all killed goblins,” I say. 

He swallows his retort. 

“The mayor? I don’t care. Police? I don’t care. I am not staying there. That was a deathtrap, waiting to happen. They try to lock someone down who isn’t with their family, think of that. Imagine you were in there, and your kids out here. With goblins. With whatever that shadow thing was.” I pause, taking a deep breath. Then I walk faster.

“I am not letting my friends die,” I say. “Not Inu or Thatch, not Opal or Sylves.”

If there’s a response, I don’t hear it, too focused on the path forward. On mana, on my skills. Humans are trouble. Unfortunately, Opal and Sylves are humans, too. 

I don’t mind, though. They’re worth the trouble. I will take care of it all.

Magic Breaker Ch 7-9

Chapter 7: Civil Disobedience

Thatch stares up at her. His mom is a tall woman, almost as tall as Inu, and built. He’d said she was a fitness trainer. Right now, I’m rather sure she could fold me in half. Unless I suppress her.

I blink. Right, I shouldn’t be thinking of how to deal with her that way. This was a problem to solve with words. 

Reaffirming myself, I give her a short nod. “Okay. Why?”

“Have you looked outside?” she asks, a small sneer on her face. “That’s not safe. We’ll die.”

She has the same kinda blonde hair as Thatch, all brushed to one side and the other one shaved short. Her eyes are focussed on me, and I almost wanna shrink back. But I don’t.

“We won’t,” I tell her. “Staying is more deadly. Stronger monsters will appear.”

“How do you know?” she asks.

“We saw one. Living thing made of shadow. Do you want to be strong enough to defeat them, or do you want to die?” I ask.

At that, I see her eyebrows furrow. “Tough words.”

“You need to hear them,” I tell her. “Right now? We can go outside. It’s risky, sure. But I don’t plan to spend the rest of my life at the mercy of what may come.”

She bites her lips. I can see her defenses crumbling. Then, Thatch helps. He lightly taps her shoulder with a fist. “That’s what I’ve been saying mom! We need levels!”

Her head falls slightly. “Fine,” she says. I don’t know if she’s ready for the horror… but I think she has a better chance than Inu’s parents. “But we head for supplies-”

“We head for Opal. They live nearby,” I say. 

Again, her eyes focus on me. She doesn’t even seem angry, and she doesn’t dismiss me, either. I’m not young enough for her to do that. 

“Fine then,” she lets up. “You’re Snow, right? Name’s Bay. If you’re gonna boss us around, you better keep my son alive.”

I nod. “I will die before him, if that’s what it takes.”

Bay looks at me, and she sees that I mean every word. At that, surprise and a small smile play on her lips. “Alright, Snow. Lead the way.”

- - -

Opal lived alone, having moved out. They had begun working on coding during their college times and gotten a full-time job instantly once they were out of it. Their flat wasn’t too far away, but the streets were slowly turning more chaotic again.

Turns out that when goblins were throwing rocks through windows, people weren’t exactly prone to staying calm. When we left Thatch’s house, police were gathering outside. It had only been a matter of time, really.

By now, we were a few hours into the apocalypse. The eyes in the sky made phone reception spotty at best, though emergency alerts still worked, luckily. But people were starting to worry.

The news had no explanation for the sudden phenomenon, and the blood splatters left on the road. There were corpses in the streets - humans and goblins, slowly disintegrating - and people saw. From their windows. 

It was that time when preppers headed to their bunkers with their guns, to ride it all out. It was that time when kids who played games and read stories experimented with the status. It was when people first figured out that they had power, and others don’t.

In short, when we left the house, there was a gunshot.

A deafening noise in the quiet streets. Norman and Jess flinched. I saw a man drop to the floor. The police officer stared in disbelief in the air. I tried to imagine what she must be reading. Something like…

[You have killed a lv. 0 Human]

Maybe level one, though I doubt much higher. The man laid on the floor, bleeding. I imagine the way the box must be disintegrating in front of her eyes. Bay is the first to act, striding towards the policewoman. 

More strangers do, too. People from the group the man was a part of were split between pushing forward and drawing back. Another police officer is on the floor, unconscious. I think he’s not dead because he isn’t bleeding.

“Excuse me,” Bay announces her presence. The police officer turns, reflexively pointing the gun at her. At that, Bay’s eyes widen and things dawn on her. I watch. Bay stops, slowly raising her hands. “I mean you no harm, ma’am,” she says.

“Stand back,” the policewoman replies, whisper-quiet.

“Please, I-”

“Stand Back!!!” she screams. Her voice pierces right into my head, making it hurt. The dark thing under my skin writhes, moving to acquiesce her command. I grit my teeth, remaining standing, pitting my will and the dregs of mana I’d recovered against the little creature underneath my skin.

The woman pants, falling to a knee, her hand holding the gun shaking. Everything’s quiet, moments passing. The group the dead man had originally been part of slowly retreats. Bay stands there, frozen, her hands still in the air.

Dropping the gun, the policewoman brings both hands to her face and sobbed. “Fuck,” she mutters. “Fuck. What did I just… shit. Holy shit.”

Bay slowly approaches. “Ma’am, I’m coming closer,” she warns. 

I eye Inu. “Use your skill,” I say.

She looks at me for a long second, then nods quietly. I see the policewoman tense slightly, but her breathing becomes a little more even. She gets to share some of my calm. I hope Inu doesn’t get to feel my pain through the skill.

Given the look she was currently boring into me, she does. I focus more on [Suppression].

Bay reaches the officer, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?”

She shakes again. “It’s… Alea. Alea Wilson.” 

Thatch’s mother nods. “Alright, Alea. I’m Bay. This is my son, Thatch, his friends, and another set of parents. Could you… explain what happened to us?”

“I killed him,” she says. “I shot him at point blank and… it said I levelled up.” She breaks into a small chuckle, defeated. “What the hell does that even mean.”

It wasn’t a question, not really, but Bay still answers. She takes a moment. “This is… like a video game, in the real world. Things get powers through levels. Can you say the word ‘status’ for me?” she asks.

The policewoman shakes, still on the floor. Obediently, she opens her mouth. “Status.”

From there, her eyes move left to right, reading. She saw her name, the floor, her level, her skills… And then something in her eyes lights up. I know that. Dangerous.

I turn to Thatch. “Tell her to come back.”

Just like Inu before, he knows me. He recognizes my tone of voice. “Mom? Come back to us, please.”

She turns, confused, and hesitates. The policewoman grabs her leg. “Stay,” Alea [Commands].

Bay freezes. “Yes, Ma’am,” she says, voice obedient and empty. 

Thatch’s face falls. He seems so disappointed, so sad, and I feel my blood boil. “Thatch?” I ask. “Are you angry right now?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Kill that pig,” I tell him.

I [Select] the woman. It’s hard maintaining two targets at the same time, abhorrently hard, but it’s fine. I can do it. But [Suppression]? I forget about the thing underneath my skin, about the pain it will cause me. I target the woman, I target her insidious, horrible command.

Pain burns through my side as the inky infection moves again, but I don’t care. I see Thatch take a step, then two, then three. The policewoman freezes. She got hit by my [Suppression], and I imagine Thatch’s [Piercing Gaze] at the same time. She barely even responds when he slams his fist into her face with the crunch of breaking bones.

The officer’s head crashes into the pavement, brutally. Her skull breaks, blood pooling underneath her head. Thatch instantly stops, takes a breath, then stretches out a hand to his mother. “Hey, mom? Can we move on?” The street is quiet.

Bay turns to him, her eyes glassy with the faint sheen of tears. “Yeah,” she says. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to just… leave you. I’ll listen next time.”

Thatch smiles. “All okay,” he says, lightly tapping her shoulder. “Don’t even worry about it.” 

Norman’s face twists in disgust. Jess seems both horrified and unsurprised. Inu simply stares at the corpses. We approach.

The other officer is also dead. The man probably had a skill to hurt people without outward injuries. We move on from the three corpses, before they can attract scavengers.

Chapter 8: Shelter

[Level up! 2 > 3]

I stand above the broken corpse of another goblin, looking at my increased level. I add its knife to the dozen strapped to me as I allocate two points to heart, and one to vessel.

Lv. 3

Heart: 5

Power: 2

Vessel: 9

All my stats have increased naturally. I’ve scraped the bottom of my mana pool as I keep [Suppression] active on the little creature under my skin. My heart increased once, naturally, from fighting off the foreign infection.

Now, with two more points, some of that pain fades. My blood vessels are healing, knitting themselves back together. I need to survive, and so, while I want to use my skills more, I put the points into heart.

I shiver as my blood flows faster. I can almost feel myself become healthier. The dark thing starts to struggle even more, but the point in vessel has given me some more mana to work with, so I intensify my mental hold on it.

‘Suck it,’ I think at the creature.

With the heightened stats, I also feel that tingling more clearly. There is mana inside me, in the air around me, and within my companions. I’m sure that it’s not the only thing that can fuel skills, but it sure seems to be what fuels most of them. 

It makes me wanna master it. To be able to use it. I reach out, but it’s entirely pointless. The mana in the air doesn’t respond to me at all, doesn’t want to be mine. All I have to use are the pitiful amounts appearing in my vessel, like water vapour condensing up against a cold window.

Taking a deep breath, I keep moving. The others have killed their goblins. This time it was a group, and it’s only thanks to Norman that we’re unhurt. He’s rather good at casting his barriers at opportune times and stabbing the goblins who are busy with us while unnoticed.

A barrier casting rogue. Jess is a butchering ice-mage. Bay is a controller, with some kind of stun ability. Thatch is a mix between a scout and a barbarian, Inu a supporter-juggernaut.

What does that make me? I think I’ve barely scratched the surface of [Selection], but [Suppression] would make me a debuffer. I’m the person who softens up the enemies for the kill. 

I wince as my mind wanders, bringing it back to the task of stopping the thing that is inside my body. I can’t hurt it in there. Whenever I try to hit it, it moves, or squishes, unbothered. It doesn’t respond to cutting or blunt force.

By now, I kind of consider asking Jess to freeze it, but I don’t think that’d go well with it still inside my body. Then, there is that new thing that I don’t quite like the feel of. 

[You have caught the Eye of the Creeping Darkness.]

Waving my hand through the box, I watch as it falls apart into stardust and nothingness. But I remember. I look at the sky, full of thousands of eyes. Does one of them seem focussed on me? I can’t tell. All of them seem to watch everything all at once.

Thatch puts a hand on my shoulder. “You good?” he asks me, out loud, then leans in closer and whispers. “I don’t want to freak you out, Snow, but… I think there’s some kind of shadow thing inside you.”

It’s quiet enough to not alarm the rest of the party. I smile at his antics. “Yeah,” I reply to his first question, then I turn my voice to a whisper. “I know. It’s under control… somewhat. For now. You get it.”

He gives me a long, quiet look. “Glad to hear it,” he says, then smiles brightly. And then, he backs off.

That trust was why Thatch was my friend. Why I chose him, like I had chosen Inu and Opal and Sylves. Why I couldn’t let any of them die. Why I need to find Opal. But when we get to their apartment after a few hours of walking, it’s empty.

No sight of my friend. 

I stand in front of the open, empty door frame for a long moment. Their apartment is a mess. Someone looted it, maybe one of their neighbours. But there’s no blood. Everything of importance is gone. No electronics, bedding strewn across the floor, an open balcony door, letting in the cold air.

Inu puts a hand on my shoulder, and I let her, staring at the empty apartment. The sky is starting to darken outside.

“We should… stay the night here,” I say. It feels so bleak. Like giving up, like leaving my friends to die. Opal and Sylves. 

“Fine by me,” Bay shrugs. “I’ll check to see if any of the other apartements have more bedding. Not keen to sleep on the floor.”

Norman simply collapses into the messy bed. Opal’s bed. I’m about to call him out, but choke the words in my throat.

Inu stands by me, and Thatch gives me a mournful smile as he sits on the floor, leaning against the wall. 

“They’re not here,” I tell Inu, and she nods. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Think they went looking for us?”

I nod. “Maybe. They’re the heroic type, right?” A thin smile worms its way onto my lips at the thought.

She chuckles at that. A tiny, warm noise. “Definitely. Who knows, maybe Sylves is with them.”

A small bit of hope. “That’d be nice,” I say.

Then, Jess speaks up. “Do you have your own family, Snow?” she asks. “You talk about your friends so much. Don’t you want to-”

“Mom!” Inu interrupts her. She says more than that, but the damage is done. I’m not listening anymore. Their conversation fades.

I don’t know whether Opal is alive. One of my friends. Inu, Thatch, Opal, Sylves. One of them might be dead. And she asks about my family? 

For a brief second, I consider killing her. 

I look at Jess and put the option on the scale. Inu is next to her, holding her shoulder. She’s talking, probably explaining. I take a deep breath. 

“Inu?” I call out, quietly. She looks at me, her eyes wide with worry. No fear. “I don’t mind explaining myself.”

At that, she nods. “Okay,” she says. No questions. No pushing. She makes it so easy, I smile.

“Jess. My parents live elsewhere. I don’t think my time is well spent worrying about them. Yes, I have more family. A brother and a sister. Aunts, uncles, all of that. But my friends? They live nearby. I can help them. People who I personally choose to be around,” I say. Every single word is true.

She nods, slowly. “I… see,” she says.

“Right. You see, I get to choose my friends. And I take that choice very seriously. I would die for your daughter. Without hesitation. I would kill for her, you understand?”

Again, she nods.

“That same thing goes for the others. For Thatch. For Opal, for Sylves. I choose to be friends with them, and so, I intend to stick to that responsibility,” I say.

Her answer doesn’t matter. I’m not listening to it. The crawling, squirming mass of ink in my side is acting up again, brushing against my bones. Digging through my flesh like an army of maggots. It hurts, piercing agony. And I don’t [Suppress] the pain, not at all.

Instead, I [Suppress] the thing. I minimize its movements and damage. Still, as I sit on the hardwood floor, leaning my back against the drywall, I let myself feel the pain. My face is neutral, unempathetic, and I reach into my bag, putting on my headphones, playing some music and tuning out the noise the others make. Then, I touch a hand to my side.

It tingles. The mana in the air feels like faint pinpricks against my fingers. Hours pass as the others forage. I eat some more of the ranger store supplies, feeling the tingling mana contrast against the writhing underneath my skin.

The thing moves in tune to my heartbeat. It eats my flesh, slowly, suppressed by my will.

But I can tell one thing. As it eats me up from the inside…

It’s growing.

Chapter 9: Nighttime

One by one, my party members fall asleep. 

Inu and Thatch know that I’m hurt. They can see it. Thatch saw the blotch of darkness beneath my skin, Inu can feel my pain through [Empathy]. And yet, they tell no one. 

I smile. Their trust means the world to me. I trust them in turn. The same way I trust Opal and Sylves. They’re out there, somewhere, I’m sure.

Slowly, the sky grows darker. 

With the eyes in the sky, the day was already a little gloomy, but now? They eclipse almost all the stars. Dozens, hundreds of pupils in the sky, staring down. Unblinking.

Taking a deep breath, I ignore them.

Darkness creeps in, heavier than it usually does in the city. The streetlights go on, then flicker out. There is a droning to the darkness, an ominous quality that feels like it might get up and slither in through the window. 

The thing beneath my skin starts writhing more, and the pain keeps me awake. Every notion of sleep flees when my brain is reminded that there is a living thing currently burrowing inside me. 

Over and over, I clamp down on it with my mind. [Suppression] activates again and again. It feels like each cast is building a more sturdy prison, like I’m caging the thing in, bar by bar. But it writhes. It fights.

It’s growing, consuming me. And with night falling, I think it’s becoming stronger.  Minutes tick by, and the pain gets worse. My skin prickles with mana. The world has changed. 

I adjust, splitting my mind as best I can. A part of it is focussed on maintaining the cage on the inky creature, another part is just… thinking. Trying to stay away from the pain. What does this world mean for me?

Violence is what comes to mind first. It means violence. Humans aren’t exactly kind creatures, to the world, to each other. And with the potential for power when killing each other? This world doesn’t exactly seem to encourage kindness, or mercy.

But, at the same time, I feel a sense of wonder. 

Yeah, there is a living thing currently killing me, but so what? I can feel mana tingling against my hand as I move it through the darkness that spills into the room like ink. The air feels heavy to breathe, pressing against my chest. It’s the kinda presence that makes it all feel real.

This feels meaningful. Like I have a purpose. No endless grinding at some kind of dead-end job, no long nights of writing papers I couldn’t care less about. There is something pure to this situation.

Me against the world.

It’s simple, really. I kill whoever I choose to kill, I protect whoever I choose to protect. And that thing whose attention I caught… Creeping Darkness, right?

“I know you’re out there,” I whisper. “Come the hell at me.”

No reply. The minutes tick by, and I refocus my efforts on caging the inky monster. I can’t sleep, so I focus. I think. I try to practice, feeling the scraps of energy in my vessel, shifting them around.

And then, the darkness turns thicker. Ever thicker, until I cannot see the room anymore. Midnight hits.

There is no clock telling me so, I just know.

As the entire world turns black, words dig into my vision, glowing bright in my retina.

[Congratulations!]

[You have survived the first day. Second stage of descent imminent. Prepare.]

Within that darkness, I feel prickling on my skin. It’s heavy, and unlike the usual slight tingling, this is more intense. Like needles, painlessly piercing my skin. A thousand of them, all over my body. 

Something within me changes. It feels like someone is taking my nervous system, and numbing it, then moving it around. I experience the sensation of my insides turning liquid and malleable, but there is no pain. Not even a hint of it. The absence is almost bizarre, since I feel like there should be some kind of agony.

None.

[Sensory alterations applied. Physical and Mental limits lifted.]

[Initializing terraforming.]

Things instantly feel different. Despite the numbness, I can feel the ground rumbling beneath me. Earth would no longer be the same after this change. 

[Planets merged. Dungeons created.]

And that is all. The ground stops shaking. It was so faint that I can almost convince myself I imagined it, but no. As the darkness recedes, things are different.

The first things I notice are those “sensory alterations” it mentioned. This system doesn’t seem to like giving out much information, but I can feel the difference. It’s visceral, and incredible.

Before, mana had felt like tingling pinpricks on my skin, but after the first day? I can feel it. The way it flows from my vessel and through my body, the channels it follows, the way it has to burrow through my flesh.

I activate [Suppression] and see the way it spills into patterns, writhes inside me. It coils and contorts, then resonates with the world. It follows the smokey, greyish tendril of [Selection] and latches onto the inky blot inside me. 

And then it settles on it. Like a heavy weight, crushing the thing. 

My mind feels fresh. My body, too, feels… more limber. Easier to move. Not stronger, but less limited. As if the ceiling was removed and I could finally see the sky.

Despite the writhing pain in my abdomen I smile. 

Slowly, carefully, I lift a hand. I pull the tiniest wisp of mana from my core, guide it into my palm, then out of it. A wisp of energy floats in the air, and, unlike the ambient mana, still feels like mine.

It’s like a tether between me and it. A faint connection, not quite like [Selection] but similar. It’s like a piece of me. I consider suppressing it, but disregard the notion. But as it is, as a wisp, it’s not useful.

Wrapping my mind around it, I push. The wisp condenses into a smaller area. Into a droplet, then even more. I press on it with my mind. It feels playful, like a toy, even though it’s hard. I push some more, and the mana eventually obeys.

It condenses further, the tiny drop of it becoming an even smaller little crystal. It’s like a grain of rice but sharper. I grin. I made that.

[New Skill acquired!]

[Solidification 0 > 1]

My grin grows wider, and I hold the tiny grain of mana in my hand, close up to my eye. It’s fun. It’s so fun, pushing the world around with my mind. I want to do it more. 

The pain in my abdomen isn’t what’s keeping me up anymore. It’s raw curiosity. What else can I do with mana? What else is out there for me to find? I wanna see it. Wanna see it all. Wanna show it to Inu and Thatch and Opal and Sylves. 

We merged with a new planet, too, it said. This thing might be stingy, but it at least told me that much. And dungeons. What else is there?

Classes and jobs, for sure. Maybe quests? Legendary items? Magitech? It says Earth is floor zero, so maybe some kind of tower? I look at the eyes in the sky, stretching my left hand upwards as I close my right around the tiny grain of mana. 

The Eyes look down on me, and for a moment, I think they’re all focussed on me. The smile on my face grows manic. “Just you wait,” I tell them, quietly. “I’ll come up there and see what you really look like.”

I wanna see this new world. Every bit of it. I wanna see just how far I can go.

Chapter 277: Icy Spirit Fog

Chapter 277: Icy Spirit Fog

It took Lucky a small while to retell the story, but in the end, it was nothing out of the ordinary. The two of them, him and the young mistress Ina of the Joo clan, were being set up for marriage. So, in one of their “dates”, she expressed frustration at the situation.

Lucky, being… well, not exactly a good guy, but a decent one back then, decided to help her out. They came up with a poisoning together, and Ina drank a tea that would make her appear to be dead to most means of identification. Her body vanished in the night, but they made a substitute using some help from the Joo clan’s physician.

And that was it. Lucky was banished for his poisoning, since they needed someone to lay the blame on and they couldn’t find an assassin, and the families had been fighting ever since. For territory and power and, most of all, honour. 

“How moronic,” Mercury said with a sigh. 

“Indeed, indeed,” Zyl nodded along. “Well, how are we going to fix this, my dear?”

The dragon’s voice was teasing, already knowing Mercury couldn’t resist solving a problem when he saw one. So, the mopaaw didn’t even fight it. He just gave a sigh, and nodded. “How indeed. I doubt we can just find the Joo clan’s young mistress, nor would I want to make her return to a clan she wanted to run from. So how do we prove it?”

Zyl tilted his head. “Don’t you have a Skill that let’s you convince others you’re being truthful?”

“That won’t be enough,” Lucky said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Admitting that they were wrong to fight would bring even more shame over the families. They’d need something ironclad. Even if they all knew you were right, they’d continue to fight.”

“What a chore,” Mercury said with a sigh. “Well, thank you Lucky. This’ll help.” He clapped the other man on the shoulder, then got up and stretched. “I’ll figure out the rest when we’re there.”

Lucky gave him a confused look. “You… aren’t asking me to come with you?” he asked.

Mercury furrowed his brows. “No, why would I? I doubt you’d want to go back. Otherwise you wouldn’t have become a bandit,” he said calmly. The words made Lucky look aside, suddenly finding the floor more interesting, but he nodded nonetheless.

“I don’t want to go back,” he said quietly. 

“Mhm, I get it,” Mercury hummed. “Family can be hell. My parents tossed me to the street when I was 17. I slept on my brother’s sofa for a long while, when looking for work. It also made me not wanna go back, so you don’t need to, either. Live your own life, not the one your clan wants for you.” 

With that, he turned around and walked off. Lucky, Jean and Brock all seemed pleased with their newest occupations in construction. He didn’t yet know what made Jean turn to banditry, but he also didn’t need to. That truth was hers to share, even if he was burning with curiosity. 

Zyl sat for a while longer with the rest of the people there, while Mercury headed to their room. He laid flat on the bed for a little while, closing his eyes and daydreaming softly. He was… more or less looking forward to the family feud stuff. Because clans were complicated, and he couldn’t just intimidate them into not being terrible. 

How troublesome indeed. “Juno, can’t I just send you to find any and all evidence of their tampering?” he asked with a sigh.

The wolf in his shadow stirred, huffing with amusement at the question. “I doubt it, my liege.”

“Mercury,” he corrected her. “And why?”

“Because, Mercury,” she said pointedly, “I suspect that with years having passed, there isn’t too much evidence left. Perhaps a new diplomatic resolution is in order? Or you could get the physician to admit it, of course.”

He hummed for a long while, then nodded. “That’s a good place to start,” he said simply. “Alright, once we’re there, we’ll check in with the physician. Surely that can’t be so hard?”

- - -

It turned out to be just that difficult.

First, of course, they had to say goodbye to all their friends. To Jean, Lucky, Brock and old Kan again. Then, they had to travel to the estate with Mira, which was a journey cut much shorter thanks to <Itinerant>.

Mira then introduced them to the Joo clan. To so very, very many members of the Joo clan. And he had to tell them so very many times that he wouldn’t bow. Then two of the clan’s scions challenged him to duels to the death, of course, which caused even more trouble.

After thoroughly embarrassing two children by snapping their flimsy little swords in half with his bare hands, he was finally allowed to move on with his life. When he greeted the elders, only one of them challenged him to a duel to the death for his disrespect.

Which he won, again.

“If you continue at this rate, the Joo clan may soon have a weapon shortage,” their matriarch noted. The old woman sat on a throne in the middle of the hall of elders and was the last person Mercury was introduced to, as she had joined the meeting far later than anyone else. Some wayward visitor would have generally been beneath her notice, if it weren’t for the fact that this wayward visitor had just trounced some of her family’s warriors.

“I was brought here for my smithing skills,” Mercury noted. “Though I would prefer to make armor, rather than weapons.”

The matriarch tilted her head in curiosity, leaning her aged face on a thin arm, her skin clinging tight to her bones. “Oh?” she asked. “You are an armorer over a weaponsmith?”

Mercury smiled tightly, and shook his head. “I can make weapons just as well,” he said simply, “but I do not enjoy helping others kill. If murder were my passion, I could just as well do it myself.”

Instantly, whispers erupted in the hall at his audacity. The matriarch smiled at him, amused. “You’ve fixed young Mira’s armor, then?”

“Yes.”

“My, my. And you’d refuse us if we asked you for weapons?” she asked.

“Yes,” Mercury said simply.

The whispers grew louder. The matriarch’s smile widened. “Esteemed visitor, I do not yet know your name and you do not yet know mine. And still, you already doubt my judgment? Are you accusing the Joo clan of wantonly murdering without reason? You’d lump us in with the worst of the cults?” she asked.

Mercury already felt his tiredness growing. These endless politics. Why was there bureaucratic white-tape even in a fucking conversation? To have his words twisted like that, it annoyed him to no end. These were all vultures, every single one of them. That was the true divide between righteous and underworldly. 

The underworldly cults at least admitted to being evil. They were predators, openly and honestly. They would murder and steal and hide and stake ambushes. They’d do everything and anything to grow stronger. That was their truth.

But the righteous clans? They did the same. Instead of being predators, though, they were scavengers. They’d wait for a sign of weakness, for a bit of carrion, then tear the meat from one’s bones. And right now, they were preparing grievances against Mercury. Setting him up to make more mistakes, constructing a verbal trap to bleed him out.

“What is your name, matriarch?” he asked.

Waving a hand, the woman acted as if she was doing him some great favour. “You may call me matriarch Sung, wayward visitor.”

Mercury nodded. “Well then, matriarch Sung. I will be open and honest with you.” He smiled politely, and could already see the woman waiting for him to make a mistake. Every single elder was staring at him, hoping to bleed him dry. “I think your clan is beyond incompetent,” he said. “I think your feud is unjustified, and you were, all of you, fooled by a pair of children. Your judgment is so impaired you’d attack your allies for a decade because of a simple trick. No, I would not lump you in with the cults. The cults, after all, murder for profit. You murder because of your own incompetence.”

At that, he saw their jaws drop. Veins appeared on foreheads, and chilling killing intent spilled into the hall where visitors were greeted. Matriarch Sung glared at him with eyes so cold they might have turned a star into a block of thousand-year ice.

“Wayward visitor,” the matriarch hisses like an insult. “Would you enlighten this old lady to your name?”

“You may call me visitor Starlight,” Mercury replied gracefully, giving her his permission.

Once more, the old lady’s gaze darkened. Her killing intent spilled forward so violently that Mira staggered back. But Mercury just stood, clasping his hands behind his back. It was funny, wasn’t it?

Killing intent was probably some form of intimidation skill. Something like his old <Bloodlust>, except evolved. But, in that way, Mercury’s “equivalent” to their killing intent would be <Unravel>. Which, logically, meant that with a bit of practice, maybe he should be able to press on people with it, too.

Trying it out just for fun, he pushed back on the killing intent with his own, and he felt a strange resonance. A mix of <Unravel>, <Truth> and his <Weapon Intent> spilled into the air, cutting through the oppressive pressure and unmaking it. Suddenly, the atmosphere felt almost calm around him, even though the air in the rest of the room was boiling. But Mercury was unbothered.

“Well then, visitor Starlight,” matriarch Sung said, squeezing the armrest of her throne so hard her knuckles turned pale. “You have already stretched your hospitality thin. First, you spit on our hospitality with your rudeness, and now, you dare insult my clan’s honour? You must have forgotten to give your host some face, boy.”

Mercury tilted his head. It had been a while since someone called him a boy. What a strange experience to go through again after such a long time. “But matriarch Sung, all I am saying is the truth. Am I truly to blame for the fact that your young mistress Ina wanted to run away? Or is that your fault for being terrible guardians? Perhaps if you spent less time on killing your allies you might still have good relationships with your grandchildren.”

“Enough!” the old woman barked. Her hair rose behind her back, floating furiously as she stood. “Silence, whelp. How dare you speak like that in our ancestral home? If I cut out your tongue you would still flap it too much. You know nothing of me and my clan, and it is clear you are too ignorant to learn. So, die where you stand, and may your corpse bring us some face back.” A long glaive materialized in her grip.

Sighing softly, Mercury brought up a hand. “Hold on now. Ask the Joo clan’s physician. You will see that my words are true.”

The old lady scoffed at this, but nodded nonetheless. “Let us unveil your lies before I cut off your head, then, whelp.”

Zyl leaned in to Mercury and whispered. “She sure has a temper, huh?”

“A little like Lucia,” Mercury replied quietly, which made Zyl snicker.

“A little…” the dragon repeated, shaking his head. 

Only a few moments later, the old physician of the Joo clan joined them in the room. He was an old man, with a bent back, and his snow-white hair in a long braid down his back, while the top of his head remained bald. He clasped his hands and owed to the matriarch. “Physician Joo Jidong pays his respects to matriarch Sung.”

“Greeting, old Ji,” the matriarch says, her voice almost fond. “This visitor has made a grave accusation to your integrity.”

At that, the old man’s brows furrowed, and he turned to look at Mercury. “Has he now?”

“I said that you helped the Joo clan’s young mistress stage her death so she could run away,” Mercury said.

To his credit, the old man was a good actor. The frown on his face simply deepened, hiding the faint twitch of his muscles. “Now, why would I do that?” Joo Jidong asked.

“Because, sir Joo, you are a decent person. Which is why I ask you to speak the truth. Otherwise, I fear I may lose my head to your matriarch’s wrath,” Mercury said calmly, cupping his hands.

At that, Joo Jidong’s frown deepened. Not with malice, but with concern. He had sacrificed people before to keep this affair a secret, but it had never been so in his face. Someone who very genuinely was about to be executed in front of him was different from a battlefield he didn’t have to see.

But, despite that, the old man shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re speaking of, esteemed visitor,” he said calmly, closing his eyes. “Please, do not besmirch my name with your insidious words. I would not lie to the Joo clan.”

Mercury smiled faintly, even as the matriarch’s stormy mood turned even darker. The old lady turned to the mopaaw and slowly lifted her glaive, pointing the blade at his neck. This was made less frightening by the fact that she was still sat in her chair and more than a dozen steps away, but Mercury could still feel the cold edge of steel.

“Matriarch Sung, by all means, what would it take for you to believe me?” he asked politely.

At that, the old woman scoffed. “Nothing could make me believe you. You’d have to show me my own living daughter if you wanted me to believe it.”

Smiling softly, Mercury gave a sigh. “That might be troublesome,” he said. “But I can prove to you that the body is fake.”

Instantly, the room burst into yelling. Physician Joo Jidong creased his brows further, his lips tilting downwards into a deep frown. Mercury could see his thoughts racing through what techniques could be used to identify the body. He’d done a good job with it, after all. The bloodline was right, the bone marrow was correct, he’d even instilled a small mind-graft for lingering mental processes.

Yet, when he looked at this stranger, it was clear that the man meant it. Mercury smiled calmly as he waited, giving the floor a small tap with his foot - and for a single blink, his shadow flickered. But then, it was back to being entirely ordinary. Every single person of note in the Joo clan was staring at Mercury with a mix of animosity and curiosity.

About half of them asked for his head on a pike right then, while the other half wanted to see this so-called proof of his. Neither of them were good actions, though. Letting him touch the body of a clan member would be a loss of face either way. Killing him would simply be an admission of guilt.

“Visitor Starlight,” the old woman ground out, the armrest of her chair splintering in her brutal grip. “You better be able to back these words of yours up.”

Smiling softly, Mercury nodded. “Of course, matriarch Sung. I am a man of bold claims, but I am not a man of broken words.”

In truth, of course, Mercury had no such elegant solution prepared. But he was rather sure he could find one before time was up. After all, Juno was already out, inspecting the physician’s laboratory for any remaining notes on the process. And he, himself, was rather excellent at finding out the truth of something.

Again, it was all a matter of finding something that was convincing. But, in the worst case, he could always simply look at the body properly. He was sure he’d find something. Really, right then, he was mostly grateful for his <Guest> title, because without it, he probably would have had his head cut off already.

“Fine then,” matriarch Sung said, lifting her glade, and slamming its heel onto the floor. “Bring us to the crypt.”

One of the elders immediately protested. “Matriarch Sung, you cannot be serious!” she yelled. “We invite this… wanderer into our ancestral grounds and the first thing he does is demand to see the young mistress Ina’s corpse?! We should cut off his arms and throw this wastrel to the streets!”

The matriarch shot the elder a deep glare, holding out her free hand to silence the voices. “Quiet, now. You must forgive an old, sentimental woman,” she said, turning her face to Mercury. “For if there is any hope of my daughter living, then I must hear it out.”

Her stony face said she didn’t care a whiff about her daughter, but to say as much would be suicide, then, Mercury noted. What a shrewd old woman. He could debate her integrity if he wanted to, but so long as that integrity stood, her actions, even in indulging a worthless wastrel, were righteous. And if he was proven correct, she could show joy over it, as a mother.

Clever, Mercury noted mentally. Very clever. But she still would have to stop the feud if he showed the corpse as being fake. That was his true goal for now, after all. He didn’t care a hint about their honour or reputation. All he cared about was making sure they stopped killing each other.

So, when matriarch Sung walked down the steps with all the arduity that belonged to a woman of her age. She complained about her knees, her back, and her feet all the way down, shooting Mercury pointed glares, but she walked nonetheless.

First, past him, then past physician Joo Jidong, who hurried to follow her. As did Mercury and Zyl, and even Mira, who walked along with a grimace, rapidly regretting having brought Mercury in. She carefully wiped her lips, blood having coated them when the killing intent crashed into her. 

A long few steps passed, until Mercury and Zyl were given blindfolds to tie around their eyes. Of course, the blindfolds were magical, meant to suffocate all senses, but it wasn’t like that would stop Mercury. It was a little funny when the attendant had to reach beneath the veil of his hat to apply it, but soon, he was walking again, led by the arm.

And not too long after, only a few thousand steps, he was told to remove the blindfold - and found himself in a crypt indeed. 

It was an underground room, yet it was green with grass. There was a calm lake, full of lily flowers, floating peacefully, and a thin fog laid heavily across the green. It would have been easy to assume it was aboveground, except for the cave roof that towered over them, and the stone walls lined with jade coffins.

The sight was eerie. The room was cold, but not horrendously so, and the water flowed smoothly from a source in the wall, into the pond, and then escaped into a river, through a grate in the side of the room. It was peaceful, and melancholic. The only light source was faintly glowing orbs that hovered around the room like fireflies.

Matriarch Sung paid no attention to any of the wondrous sights. She walked briskly across a bridge of pale pink wood, crossing to the other side of the pond, and then strode along the wall of coffins. Mercury, Zyl, and physician Joo Jidong all followed her calmly, having left their attendants by the entrance.

A moment passed when Juno slid into Mercury’s shadow again, and the two briefly exchanged a conversation. Mercury didn’t exactly have a telepathy skill, but Juno had something quite similar - her voice was a tiny, thin whisper next to his ear, and he could return a message just the same.

“Found his notes on faking a death,” the wolf explained. “I read them all, but the most interesting part is that the bodies are all those of mortals. They will have no signs of ever having cultivated. Which wouldn’t be noticed in a jade coffin burial, but be very easy to see if you tested.”

Mercury smiled calmly at the news, nodding his head softly. “Thank you, Juno,” he replied. “That is very helpful.”

After another dozen steps, matriarch Sung stopped. She turned, staring at an alcove in the wall, filled by a jade coffin. She took a deep breath, then nodded. “This,” she said, “houses the body of my daughter, little Ina. She has been resting there for almost two decades now. This better be worth my while.”

Gingerly, her hand moved forward, resting on the pale jade of the sarcophagus. A thin tendril of qi passed from her into the material, and then, she pulled. The thing swung open, and Joo Ina’s body was revealed. In pristine condition, as if she were just sleeping, with chilling fog rolling outwards.

She was dressed in elegant fabrics, despite her burial, her hair done up with pins and jewelry, as if she were about to head to a wedding. Mercury felt a little sad for the girl, thinking that this facsimile of hers probably was the first time she met her family’s rigorous expectations.

But being sad wasn’t his duty, being correct was. “Say, did your daughter cultivate?” Mercury asked calmly.

Instantly, Joo Jidong’s eyes widened. His breath hitched for a brief moment, almost unnoticeable, but his stare at Mercury was clear. Matriarch Sung narrowed her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Little Ina cultivated. She was quite good at it, too. Not a prodigy like me, but rather talented, reaching the polished-realm at her age.”

Mercury nodded. Very gently, he reached forward, turning to the matriarch. “May I?” he asked.

The old woman watched his movements carefully, but nodded for now. With a slow motion, Mercury did the least invasive thing he could imagine - plucking a single hair. 

“Now, when cultivators cultivate, their hair is the truest tell of it,” he mused. “Because, of course…”

“New hair always grows with the strength of a new breakthrough,” Joo Sung agreed. “Little Ina cut her hair, though. She would not have all her stages marked on it.”

Smiling faintly, Mercury nodded. “Indeed. It would be polished-realm hair, all the way down, yes?”

“Of course,” matriarch Sung said. “What is your point.”

Holding the strand to her, he nodded. “Break it,” he said.

“What?”

“Pull the strand of hair apart, and tell me if it requires the strength of somewhat at the polished realm.”

Frowning deeply, matriarch Sung did reach out and take the hair. It was invasive and rude, but it was far better than any other tests he could imagine. With a swift motion, the old woman pulled the hair into two pieces. And then, instantly, her eyes widened. “That isn’t the hair of my daughter,” she whispered. Her eyes fell on Joo Jidong, the old physician. “It really isn’t.”

Joo Jidong gritted his teeth. “Now, now,” he said carefully. “We know not if the physicality of little Ina was degraded by the icy spirit fog in her coffin. Perhaps this is simply age?”

The matriarch stared, then, slowly nodded. “Right, of course,” she agreed readily. Her eyes fixed on Mercury again. The shock wore off, but then her mind rattled. She realized that her daughter was already gone, and she never cared for the kid, anyway. Instead, she was a shrewd sect-leader. She needed this justification for a feud, so she could continue to steal from the Yung family, without repercussions.

A little bit of war was good for resources, after all. 

Mercury frowned at that. This place was too private. But, to his favour, there was a simple trick he had up his sleeve. He held up a second hair, then vanished it in his inventory. “Matriarch Sung,” he said calmly. “What do you think will happen if I take this hair to the Yung family?”

She furrowed her brows. “Nothing will happen,” she hissed. “You’ll be revealed as a liar and a fraud!”

Shaking his head, Mercury sighed. “No. If I show them the truth, they’ll recognize it as such. They’ll ask an alchemist to consult with them about the icy spirit fog, and they’ll learn it causes no such physical degradation. Especially not to mortal grade.”

The matriarch gritted her teeth. She squeezed her glaive. “Joo Jidong,” she hissed. “We will have words over this. But, before then, it seems I must kill you, visitor Starlight.”

Mira’s eyes widened at that. “What?!” she said. “But, he just showed that-”

“Silence, child,” the matriarch snarled. “You know nothing. You saw nothing. None of this ever happened. Down here, this wayward vagrant has shown himself a fool and will die. That is all.”

“Joo Jidong,” Mercury said calmly. “You would let your matriarch kill an innocent to continue this meaningless war? I know you can abide suffering if it is far away, but you do not strike me as this cold-blooded.”

The physician stared at him, eyes wide, hands shaking. He had once, a long time ago, helped a young woman escape this clan. Now, suddenly, he was faced with his choice from back then. He wanted to keep little Ina safe, to make sure the family would never come for her… but he could not watch someone be slaughtered in front of him. Because Joo Jidong was a coward. 

So, he sighed, out loud, and nodded. “I did it,” he said. His voice was quiet, mournful. “I helped little Ina escape.”

Instantly, the matriarch whirled around to him, staring in indignation. “You admit it?! Then I will put you to death as well!”

“Grand-aunt, stop this!!” Mira said in horror, standing in front of the crooked old physician. “What is this? You find out my aunt is alive, and you say you will kill anyone who knows? Why?!”

“That is what righteousness is, child,” matriarch Sung hissed. “It means finding reasons to fight, stealing only from those who deserve it. And right now, the Yung clan deserves it.”

“Evidently not!” Mira protested, spreading her arms wide. Joo Jidong looked at her back with quivering eyes, and Zyl just smiled. “Clearly there was a misunderstanding!”

Matriarch Sung frowned. “And that misunderstanding is one we exploit,” she said. “It is one we can use. So we must preserve it.”

“You would kill for this? Just to kill more?” Mira asked, her eyes wide. Before, she’d been disillusioned. The fighting had been going on for two decades - nearly as long as she lived. Just long enough to remember what it was like to not be in a feud, though. Enough to want that back. “Grand-aunt, you must be possessed! The kind aunt Sung I know would never do this!”

At that, the old woman’s eyes quivered, and her grip on the glaive wavered. But, in a moment of resolution, she squeezed it harder. Her hand came forward in a swift chop, knocking Mira unconscious. Then, the glaive spun through the air, slamming towards Mercury’s neck with predestined murder.

Except, he casually brought up his arm. The glaive cut through his skin, his flesh, then crashed against steel-tough bone - and stopped dead. Instantly, silvery blood poured from the wound, but when the old woman drew back, Mercury just smiled. Joo Jidong watched on as his skin writhed for a moment, then closed over the gap in his flesh.

Calmly, Mercury’s storm-robes wove themselves shut over his arm again, and he just stood there, calmly. With a very gentle motion, he closed the coffin again, ensuring the continued preservation of whatever mortal corpse had been used to create Joo Ina’s fake body. Mercury breathed in calmly, standing there unharmed, to matriarch Sung’s and Joo Jidong’s great surprise.

In the end, Zyl broke the silence with a faint snicker. Mercury gently smacked his boyfriend on the shoulder, with all the force of a feathery pillow, and then turned his eerie veil towards the matriarch. “Well then,” he said. “Now that we’ve all learnt that you cannot kill me, perhaps it’s time to talk.”

Magic Breaker Ch 4-6

Chapter 4: Parents

[Level up! 1 > 2]

Lv. 2

Heart: 2

Power: 1

Vessel: 7

I look at my stats. Vessel went up by one without me putting a stat in. I placed one in heart, since it seemed important not to be exhausted by all the walking we were doing. Two more into vessel should have left it at 6, but it sat at 7.

The air tingles against my skin. The itch from the acidic blood is almost negligible now, which I’m grateful for. I reach out to the tingling air, feeling it abuzz. I try to [Select] it, but that fails. Instead, I focus on what is going on inside me.

Vessel. It was my highest stat by far, even though it was not particularly high yet. I felt a buzzing source in my chest, which feeds into my skills when I activate them. It feels about half full right around now.

We’re almost at Inu’s house. Her forehead is beaded with sweat, and I can feel twinges of pain from her, but she handles them. We’ve gotten her a level, too. She was scared of attacking the goblins, but she did it despite that. 

I smile. ‘My friend is really rather brave, isn’t she?’

Inu grunts, jumping over another bit of rubble. The streets are now empty, most people having filtered into their houses after the emergency alert. We’re decked out in goblin weapons. I tied five daggers to my belt, and Inu has two strapped against her backpack.

We also keep three of their bone-axes. Those seem a little rarer, and are rather sturdy, though my first one broke just a bit ago.

“That’s the house, right?” I ask, pointing my axe at an apartment building. It’s about four stories high, the paint outside just a bit chipped. It looked old without being too run down, the kind that seemed like someone might murder you inside, but was actually rather homely.

“Yeah,” Inu nods. “That’s where I live.” 

We hadn’t met there too often, but I was going to sleep over there today. Until the world ended. I gave the house a long look, then the dimming sky. Might still sleep there, I amend.

Inu walks to the door. It takes a little more time, and we have to hop over some more rubble, but nothing too bad. I take the time to look around, trying to see if any humans are around, but none show themselves.

My friend eventually manages to get the key into the lock, swinging open the door to the stairwell. It’s cold inside, colder than outside, and I feel the hair on my skin stand up. Something feels messed up. The tingling against my skin is stronger. 

I give Inu a long look and she nods. We make our way further up, quietly. To the first floor, then the second. White walls with fading paint and worn stone steps. Then, there’s a deafening crack, and we’re showered with stone shards, ducking instantly. 

A gun.

“Hands above your head!” a voice demands, loud and angry, echoing through the empty stairwell. I stretch my arms up slowly, making sure to appear as harmless as I can. Just some kid, right? 

The person holding it is much older than me, in his forties. He sports a gruff beard, terrified eyes, and unkempt hair. In one word, I would describe him as panicked. “Who are you?” he barked. “You here to loot? Steal our shit, huh? Want me to blow your brains out?!”

My eyes remain set on the gun. Inu starts talking, but I have full faith in her ability to manage this. Instead, I [Select] the gun. It’s funny, feeling how it works. I get a sense for all its mechanisms, the way a little movement is used to unleash so much force.

I restrain my desire to tilt my head. Can I mess with the weapon? All I need to do is prevent the hammer from striking… but as I think about it, the man lowers the gun.

Looking up, I feel that Inu has used [Empathy] on him. The man shares some of her fear, but it’s a softer one, directed at himself. He looks at his own hands. “What… was I about to do?” he says, half sobbing. “Shooting at… some kids! How old even are you??”

“Twenty-two,” I reply without hesitation.

He laughs, though it sounds desperate. “I think that was rhetoric,” Inu tells me.

“Right, sorry,” I nod. 

“Ugh…” the man says, still caught up with himself. “I… sorry.” The gun lowers some more, and he puts it aside fully. Putting the safety back on and all. I deselect it.

“Do you… wanna come in?” he asks.

Inu shakes her head. “My parents live on the next floor,” she says

The man just nods, and waves a hand, closing his door again. I was tempted to get the gun, but they never last long in an apocalypse. I don’t think that we’ll be facing just goblins for much longer.

When we reach the third floor, Inu is shaking. I feel her reach out for some calm again and readily accept. She shares in the solemn silence within me. The girl takes a few deep breaths, then flashes me a brief smile, before unlocking the door, and opening it. “Mom? Dad? It’s me,” she calls.

I’m hit with the smell of… soup. Tomato soup. 

“Inu!” a woman calls, rushing at her and giving her a hug. She winces as they put pressure on her injured shoulder. “Oh, Inu, I’m so glad you’re back home. Where were you?” She holds onto her daughter with both arms.

A little later, I see her father lumber around the corner, too. He is a tall, thin man, with a frown set on his face and wiry, brown hair. He pushes up his thin glasses, then eyes me. “Is this your friend? Snow, you said?”

The daughter nods for me. “Yes. That’s Snow.”

He eyes me once more. “Right, I see,” he says. “Come in, you two. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

I look at Inu, then follow them inside. Her mother shares Inu’s dark skin and black hair, though the older woman’s is much longer. She’s tall, too, a little taller than me, and wears a stretchy woolen sweater.

They guide me to the dinner table, then put stew in front of us. Inu digs in like a rabid dog. My own appreciation for the food is much more measured. “It’s very good, thank you,” I tell them, and my friend’s parents soften a little.

“You look… hurt,” the mom comments. Inu told me her name, but I forgot.

“I’m okay,” I say. The few bruises and scratches won’t kill me. Well, unless I get hit by some kind of mutant virus, but in that case, I’ll figure out some way to kill it. “Your daughter took an arrow through the shoulder. We didn’t have disinfectant wi-”

“What?!” her father interrupts me. The displeased man now looks downright furious. I find myself not caring very much. Maybe if I’d been scared, I’d have flinched, but with the knives around my waist, I feel safe. Instead, I just blankly stare at him. “How?!” he demands.

Inu holds out a hand to explain herself, so I let her. Instead, I focus on the soup, and the tingling in the air. The hairs on my arm are still standing on end, and I can feel that the world has changed. My vessel is filling. Would this be called mana? I’ll call it mana.

I eye my skills again. [Selection] and [Suppression], both still at level one. I haven’t had much reason to train them yet. Our encounters had been fast and brutal. Having something to heal myself would be good. My eye drifts to Inu. No, something to heal my friends.

“Snow? Is that right?” Inu’s mother asks me.

“Yes,” I confirm. “That’s how it happened.” I wasn’t listening, but I’m sure Inu came up with a believable story.

“Oh, you poor things,” she says in a motherly tone. 

Inu pokes me, and I give an awkward smile and a nod. “We… managed.”

“Right, right. I’m glad you’re safe now. Don’t worry Snow, you can stay here until the government deals with this,” she says, eyes flicking to Norman. Her smile is thin.

No way. I have absolutely no faith in our world to mop this up. This is just what my status considers floor zero. And the tingling… I’m pretty sure it’s getting stronger. “I don’t think that’s a smart decision,” I say.

Inu’s eyes flicker to me. I nod, faintly, letting her know I mean it. Her dad gives me a hard look. “You wanna go out there and die?”

I shake my head. “I don’t plan on it. But I doubt our government will mop this up. Could you try saying ‘Status’, please? It might make things easier to explain.”

“Honey, I’m not sure…” Inu’s mom starts, but her dad is much more relentless.

“Status,” the older man calls, then his eyes go wide. “Name… Norman Kelly. How does it know my name?” 

So he’s called Norman, then. I try to remember it.

“What does this mean? Heart? Vessel? Skills?”

“What are your skills, dad?” Inu asks, gently.

He gives her a long look, then swallows heavily. “[Unassuming] and [Protection].”

Those sound useful. I could see myself working with him.

Inu’s mom, on the other hand just seems more confused. “Love… what are you talking about? Skills? A status?” A moment later she yelps, staring wide-eyed at the air. 

I bite back a sigh of impatience at the antics. “Heart is your lifeforce. Power is your capability for physical exertion. Vessel is your capacity for magic,” I explain. “Everyone seems to get two skills assigned. They work as you think they would, with some leeway.”

“Mine are [Empathy] and [Resistance],” Inu adds. “The first lets me share emotions between people. The second… well. It’s why my arm doesn’t hurt too bad.” Her smile is a little crooked, but I find myself almost smiling as well. Silly girl.

“Oh dear,” her mother says.

“Mom? What did you get?” Inu asks.

The older woman takes a long breath. The words come out calmly. “[Dissect] and [Freeze].”

Now those sound useful. I lean forward a little. “Until now, we’ve found that the skills seem to be inherently supernatural. They don’t just mean you can do something well with mundane means, they mean you can do it better than possible with mundane means,” I say.

Before I can continue, the tingling intensifies. I stand up without hesitation and walk to the window. When I open it, a howling wind crashes into me, almost sending me back a step, but I keep looking. The air is thick with… something. A moment later, a tiny green thing comes flying at my face.

Chapter 5: City

The goblin stabs its knife at me, crashing through the window and sending us sprawling in a tangle of limbs. Without hesitation, I [Suppress] it’s movements, my mind clamping down on it, turning the little beast sluggish.

My own knife slices open its throat just as it digs into my leg with its fingers. It hurts and breaks skin, but probably isn’t too deep. The caustic blood spills on me, and I close my eyes before they can get irritated. 

[You have killed a lv. 1 Goblin]

While the others are still stunned, I spit on the floor. “Inu, could you point me to the bathroom? I’d like to wash this off.”

Her mom stops screaming to listen to me talk. Inu… nods, I think, though I don’t see it, and grabs my hand, pulling me along. Then, there’s the sound of running water, and she guides my hand into the stream.

I wash my face thoroughly, feeling the tingling of the blood abate a little. My skin feels raw, but after a minute, I can open my eyes again. Inu seems to be in a rapid conversation with her parents, trying to convince them that staying is dangerous.

I take another moment to wash my face, staring into my own dark eyes. Then, I wash the blood out of my long, white hair. Some of the dye has faded, but it looks like the acid is bleaching it, making a similar colour. I turn to listen to their conversation instead.

“If only the damn window had stayed closed,” Norman complained. 

“Then we’d have been surprised,” I tell him calmly. “Something threw the goblin up. Something big.”

“Already?” Inu whispers. “What are we thinking? Hobgoblin? Troll?”

I shrug. “Dunno. But we need to move. Right now, safety means more people. Do you own a gun?” 

Her parents shake their heads and I nod slowly. “Fine. Take whatever you can use, then. Knives, baseball bats, food rations. We’ll go grab the others.”

“The others?” Inu’s mom asks. 

“Thatch, Opal, Sylves,” I say. “My friends.”

“Can’t we… stay? Hide?” Norman asks. There is some of that [Unassuming] nature. My lips twitch at the suggestion. 

“Yes,” I say. “Feel free to. I’ll be off, then.”

Inu grabs my sleeve. “I’ll come with you, Snow,” she says, decidedly. Her dad’s eyes widen.

“No, you are not!” Norman yells. He even snatches her arm, grabbing onto her. 

Without hesitation, I [Select] him. The skill clicks into place, marking him as my target. I draw upon my vessel, feeling that tingling within me, willing my mana to fuel [Suppression]. Gently, I step up, and remove his hand. He doesn’t have the strength to resist.

“Norman, with all due respect,” I say. “The world is ending. You can hide here until you die, and that is your decision. I plan on living.”

The words are calm, collected and quiet, not loud over the strange wind blowing in through the shattered window. The drapes flutter, as does my hair, and the old man’s eyes shake a little as he looks at me.

His hand drops. “Fine,” he says. “Fine, yes, we’re coming along to your friends. It…” he places his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Inu.”

“It’s okay, dad,” the girl forgives him.

I do not. I look at her mom. “Do you have a first aid kit? You can pack while I see to our wounds.”

Her eyes drift to the chunks of flesh missing from my legs. “Alright,” she says, calmer than I would have thought. “Yeah.” 

Before we leave, I grab a few more things from the bathroom, and then we’re off.

- - -

My boot presses down on a goblin. I have it locked down, squeezing it to the ground as it lets out pitiful grunts. 

[Suppression 1 > 2]

“Kill it,” I tell Inu.

The girl nods, stepping forward and driving a knife into the goblin’s eye. 

“Levelled,” she tells me. I smile and nod at her. “Two in heart, one in power,” she confirms, and I nod again. I can see her placing the points. The change is clear. Her heart is beating more strongly - almost enough for me to hear it. I can see her get dizzy for a moment as her body catches up, and she clenches her fist.

It’s a big difference. Those first few points are world changing. She touches her shoulder and winces. “It’s so itchy now,” she complains.

I smile. That means she’s healing. We continue stalking through the concrete jungle.

- - -

The wind’s picking up. It’s howling, now, powerful gusts spreading the dust and rubble, making it harder to see. I feel my heart beat in my chest as I look around, staying alert for danger. It feels almost exciting, even though it’s scary.

I feel like I’m being chased by something I cannot see. We haven’t found a sign of the monster that threw the goblin through the window, but I don’t mind. It’ll show up eventually. And then I’ll kill it. The thought of that makes me grin.

A pound of flesh for a pound of flesh. I scratch the wound on my leg a little. 

Then I stop. Inu and her parents do so a moment later. 

I listen, straining my ears to their utmost. The dust makes it hard to see, but I thought there was a shadow darting around. So, I pay attention. Eventually, I hear it. Breathing.

From beneath me.

Chapter 6: Ink

Without hesitation, my eyes scan the ground. There’s a sewer grate… but that doesn’t feel right. No. I feel my hair stand on end, I feel the tingling burn against my skin. Something is wrong. I look at my own shadow. 

It twitches. Something shifts, and the soles of my feet prickle.

I jump back. My shadow stabs upwards in a bed of spikes. The landing is rough, making me stumble, but Inu catches me. “Thanks.”

“What the hell is that?!” her dad, Norman, yells. 

The speck of darkness is still there, nails slowly sinking into the ground again. It’s just a splotch, like someone spilled a bunch of ink on the floor. Well, not quite, it wasn’t that dark. More like an invisible umbrella hanging in the air, darkening a bit of rubble.

Slowly, it shifts. Then vanishes. It doesn’t sink into the cracks in the ground, just vanishes from my sight. Gone, entirely. 

A pinprick sensation rises from my side, and I instantly cast [Suppression] at it, throwing a knife. It hisses through the air, harmlessly clattering to the ground.There is a cut on me, a shallow one, but it’s filled with a creeping darkness.

I [Select] it, keeping it in view, as it seeps underneath my skin. A tiny, inky block of darkness, sitting just next to my ribcage. 

It hurts. It hurts like all hell, like someone pouring molten metal into my insides as it burrows and writhes. It hurts enough to make my eyes tear up and I grit my teeth. I [Suppress] it. My mind wraps around the dark thing, the piece of shadow, and clamps down on it.

Mercilessly, brutally, I target it with all I have. I don’t care what it is, I don’t care what it will do, I simply force it to cease. Each action of it becomes sluggish, terribly slow, and near impossible. 

A shiver runs down my spine. It hasn’t stopped. Tendrils of darkness lurk beneath my skin, burying through me. But it has slowed, and that is the best I can do now. All I need to do is maintain it like this. [Suppress] it. [Suppress] my pain and function, as always.

I take a deep breath. “Snow, you okay?” Inu asks. My friend. Always so caring.

 “Yeah,” I lie. I know it’s a lie, and I’m almost sure Inu will see through it. Why did I lie? Honesty felt so difficult, sometimes. It just slipped out, before I even knew it.

Her eyes narrow, ever so slightly. She’s caught on, already. I keep my face neutral, placid, as it always is. “Okay,” she says. 

“I’m just glad it’s gone,” Inu’s mother - Jess, as I’ve learnt - says. 

“Yeah,” I reply. I’m sure it’s following us. “I’m glad, too. Come on, let’s continue.”

My first step is agony. I focus. Breathe. Lock down my mind. 

[Suppression 2 > 3]

The pain ebbs, and I breathe. One step after another, even as the darkness digs its way through my flesh. Trying to not notice the way it writhes underneath my skin.

“Let’s go get Thatch.”

- - -

More goblins attack us, and I help the others kill them. It doesn’t take too long to get Norman and Jess to level one. 

They’ve finally started using their skills, too. Inu’s dad is good at stopping attacks, especially on others. [Protection] manifests as him casting barriers, and [Unassuming] makes him harder to notice. Jess, on the other hand, displays more violent tendencies.

[Freeze] lets her target enemies directly, throwing icy bolts at their legs. I tell her to butcher them with [Dissect], studying their muscles to see if they have weaknesses. 

I’m a little curious if they’re edible, but refrain from giving it a try. Not that desperate yet. Instead, I chew on a granola bar from the ranger store as we walk. We don’t stop, even as we grow exhausted. Higher heart scores help ease the fatigue, but it still builds. 

My vessel feels strained. I barely have any mana left inside me. Still, I need to [Suppress] it. I’m infected. Like in a crappy zombie flick or something. It hurts like hell, and I scrape the bottom of the barrel, each grain of mana left within me, to keep the skill active, to slow down the burrowing.

It’s scraping against my bones. Eating my ribs. 

Are monsters like this supposed to drop so early? How terrifying. 

- - -

We arrive at Thatch’s house. He lives with his mom. His dad abandoned them when he came out as trans. Some of the windows on the apartment building are broken, but I ring the doorbell anyway.

Silence.

I ring it again, then for a third time, before someone picks up. “Who’s this?”

The shaky voice on the other side makes me smile, ever so faintly. “Hey Thatch,” I greet my friend. “It’s Snow. Open up?”

“Ah, yeah!” His tone shifts, now sounding excited. “Yes. Come in.”

With a buzz, the latch on the door releases and I open it. 

The first step on the staircase is the worst. Agony spreads through my side. I grit my teeth, setting my jaw. My eyes go glassy for a moment, but I walk onwards. Thatch lives on the third floor. I need to get to him. I need to.

Inu places a hand on my back, steadying me, making it a little easier to walk. She doesn’t say anything. No accusations, no callouts. I just walk, and she steadies me.

A girl with a hole in her shoulder helps me up the stairs. Eventually, we make it to the second floor. I knock. 

Thatch opens the door. He’s taller than me, too, just a bit. Blonde hair, curly and cut short, framing his face. His eyes are… emerald? They didn’t used to be. I tilt my head. “Thatch?”

“Yeah!” He says, then pulls me into a hug. Miserable pain explodes from my side at the pressure, the creature of ink squirming under my skin. I focus on it, on my tether to it, on keeping it quiet.

[Selection 1 > 2]

It’s worth it. I hug Thatch back.

“Good to see you,” I tell him. “Your eyes are green.”

“Ah! Yeah, my mom said so. It’s a side effect, we think. One of my skills,” he explains.

I nod. Thatch had been into games the most out of all of us. “Which do you have?”

“Just two,” he says. “[Piercing Gaze] and [Rage].”

At that, I blink. “Rage?” I ask.

He turns a little red, blushing. “Ah, well,” he scratches the back of his head. “I can get a little angry. Sometimes.”

Inu gives him a smile and a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. Come on. Let’s talk.”

I hold out a hand. “No,” I say. “We talk on the road. Opal and Sylves next.”

At that, everyone gives me a look. Norman scoffs. Thatch takes a long moment, staring at me. His eyes dart to my side, but he ends up nodding. “Okay,” he says. “Let me fetch my mom, and we can go.”

Jess seems afraid to go back out, but it’s necessary. I need to find my friends. I need to. I need to.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Thatch’s mom says.

I stare at her. This might be a problem.

Magic Breaker Ch 1-3

Hi. It's me. Kernoel77 here.

For the last little while, I have been preparing a new fic for upload. In fact, I have been working on this for, uh, months now. In fact, I started this project in February, then took a longer break to focus on finishing Tenets.

Regardless: For now, I am putting the first 3 chapters up for free. Chapters 4-6 will follow in a few days. I'll be doing chapters in packets of 3 to not spam any inboxes, and the first 6 will be free for all.

I'm doing this because patreon for Magic Breaker will be running 40 Chapters ahead of Royalroad and frankly uploading that many chapters the day I drop it there would be wild. So, this is what I came up with.

What is Magic Breaker? Blurb:

The only thing Snow loves more than magic... is breaking it.

When the world starts to end at the hands of the Tower and its Eyes, everyone is granted inherent skills. Snow's [Suppression] can drain anyone's strength. After selecting an anti-magic focused class, it doesn't matter whether someone is stronger or faster or a better mage, so long as Snow has mana. With a near-limitless mana pool, Snow will break them all.

There are just four people Snow needs to find at any cost before the tower fully integrates Earth and they're ready to climb. And they will climb - all the way up. The Eyes, gods looking down from the top of the tower, need to be torn from their arrogant thrones by someone.

And Snow is ready to break them, too.

In short: Magic Breaker is a LitRPG Apocalypse into Tower-Climber story with a mana-maniac debuffer/anti-mage MC.

Chapter 1: End of the World

“Is that a goblin?” Inu asks.

I look at it. Give it a long, hard look, really. It’s small, green, and overgrown with warts. Large, bloodshot eyes, and wielding a primal-looking axe.

“Yeah,” I say. “Goblin, for sure.”

At that, the little monster perks up, then screeches and lunges at Inu. I watch with curiosity as it streaks through the air. Then I catch it and slam its head into the concrete so hard it cracks.

Green blood splatters all over me, sizzling. “Oh, it’s acidic,” I say. “Mildly,” I add, scratching my skin. Inu screams in horror, looking at the scrunched up body of the monster.

I lean down, grabbing its axe. It smells horrible, and it’s poorly made. It’s too small for my hands, and the grip is slick with that same green acidic blood, wrapped in sizzling leather. Some of it gets on my nails, messing with the polish, making the black fade into a sickly grey.

Inu, my best friend, vomits. “You okay?” I ask.

She laughs, pitifully, while crying. “Fuck no.”

I give her a nod. “Take your time.” Meanwhile, I focus on the blue box in the air.

[You have killed a lv. 1 Goblin]

When I swipe my hand through it, the box shatters and dissolves into motes of stardust, then nothing at all. I look at the sky, seeing that it’s covered in eyes. Titanic ones, spanning wider than the sun, and a myriad of smaller ones I could barely make out, as well as everything in between.

My thoughts move at their usual pace, steadily crawling forward. There was a chance I was dead or hallucinating, but that seems doubtful. If I was dead, well, might as well keep on going, and I had no history of hallucinations, personal or familial.

“Do you think the world is ending?” I ask Inu, calmly.

She chokes out a cough, wiping her filthy lips. “Might be,” she said. Her braids are messy, and her dark skin looks a little sickly under the thin make-up. I can see her hazel eyes shaking slightly as she looks down at me. She’s tall, much taller than me, and despite everything, looks reliable.

“You feel any different?” I ask.

“What?” Inu looks at me, confused.

“Powers. Magic. That sorta thing,” I reply.

She blinks at me, then laughs. “Yeah, alright. Magic, sure, I-”

Before she finishes, I swipe the axe through the air, slamming it through the head of yet another goblin. Its skull breaks, spilling hissing blood on me, making my skin itch. “I really liked that hoodie,” I say.

[You have killed a lv. 1 Goblin]

Inu yelps. “That’s horrible.”

“I know,” I say, pulling at the black fabric, coming apart in my hands. “A tragedy.”

“Not that! The killing.”

“Oh.” I nod. “Right. Terrible.”

“Terrible,” she agrees. “And no, I don’t feel that different.”

“Profile,” I try. Nothing happens.

“What are you doing?” Inu asks.

I shrug. “The goblins have levels. So, we probably do too.”

She blinks, then her face twists into a crooked smile. “Fine. Character sheet.”

“Skills,” I try. “Skill Window.”

“Inspect.”

“Appraisal.”

“Analysis.”

Another goblin gets ruthlessly broken into pieces by my axe. 

“Status.” 

That one causes a mote of starlight to appear in the air in front of me.

Name: Snow Okiyama

Floor: 0

Class: None

Job: None

Lv. 0

Heart: 1

Power: 1

Vessel: 1

Skills:

• [Suppression lv. 1]

• [Selection lv. 1]

“You’re grinning,” Inu informs me.

I touch a finger to my face, and, indeed, my lips are curled upwards. “Funny how that works, huh,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, placing it in her palm. “Of course you are. Dumbass.”

Another goblin approaches us. It’s sneaking behind a tree, planted in the small green area next to the road. Without hesitation, I sprint at it.

The creature flinches, afraid, then brandishes a knife, carved from obsidian. It looks wickedly sharp - but I slam the hatchet into its skull before it even gets to use its weapon. Then, I pick up the knife.

For a moment, I consider throwing it to Inu, then think better of it, slowly approaching her and handing it over. It’s mostly clean of blood.

“You smell like shit,” she comments.

“Good point,” I reply, moving to brush some of my hair aside. Then I pause and wipe my hand first. I don’t want the blood to mess with the white dye in it. “Let's find an area with flowing water. How long do you think infrastructure will last?”

She blows out a puff of air. “Dunno. Might be days. Might be months, if we’re lucky. Certainly a week, I’m sure.”

I nod. “Makes sense. Know any nearby rivers? Just in case.”

Tilting her head, she looks at me. “No. But I know where we can find a map. Ranger station is to the east of town.”

Without hesitation, I start walking, the axe slung over my shoulder. “Nearby grocery stores?”

“A few.”

“Gotcha. We’ll raid them on the way,” I say. I’d always wanted to steal from a store. This seems like as good a chance as any.  

Inu smiles, ever so faintly, for the first time. “It’s only stealing if they need it more than you…”

“You get it.” 

For a few minutes we walk in silence - well, moderate silence. Turns out, the ending of the world isn’t quiet. People are screaming, goblins cackling. There’s gunshots going off, roaring car engines, and we do our best to stay away from the roads. No sense in getting run over.

Inu looks at me, quietly following. 

I look back at her. She seems to want to speak, but is unable to find the words. I sigh, internally, letting none of it show on my face. It’s okay. I like her lots, so I’ll happily bear with it. Smiling slightly, I ask her, “So. What are your skills?”

She blinks, then frowns. “Should we talk about those out loud?”

“Well, it would be helpful to know.”

“Right,” she hums. “Well. Mine are [Empathy] and [Resistance].”

I tilt my head a little. They suit her. “[Suppression] and [Selection].”

“Two each,” she notes. “A universal standard, maybe?”

I nod along. It makes sense. Two skills to start. “Probably with a chance to gain more in the future.”

Another screaming goblin, another swing of the axe…

[You have killed a lv. 1 Goblin]

[Level up! 0 > 1]

I stop in my tracks. There is a tugging at my mind, demanding to know my future path. Heart, Power, Vessel. “I levelled,” I tell Inu.

“Makes sense. You’ve been doing the killing. How many points?”

“Three,” I reply.

“Even spread?” she asks.

I shake my head. “We should test them. In which case, it will be easier to notice the differences if we specialize.” I take a long look at the stats again.

Heart, the first of the three. I stare at it, as hard as I can. There is a tingle on the back of my mind, an iron taste on my tongue. I feel a small tether, and then the feeling intensifies; that of my heart beating in my chest, of blood coursing through me, keeping me alive.

“Heart is the designated health stat,” I tell Inu. 

Without hesitation, she accepts it. “Got it. What do the others do?”

I focus on power, and the tether to heart falls apart. Instead, there is a new connection. The smell of sweat, of movement, of exertion. The kind of thing that might hit you upon heading to a gym. “Power smells of strength. But it’s more ephemeral. It’s… your capacity for exertion,” I say.

“That makes no sense,” Inu chuckles. “Well, a little, I suppose. That one has the simplest name.”

“Right,” I agree. Then, finally, I tether to vessel. This one feels like an ice-cold bath, like sticking my head underwater and seeing an ocean in front of me. “It’s… capacity?” I tell her. “Feels mysterious. I love it.”

All three of my points go into it.

Lv. 1

Heart: 1

Power: 1

Vessel: 4

Electricity tingles in my fingertips. I feel deeper. The tether connecting me to the stat grows a little thicker. “I think vessel is something like… how much mana you can hold? How much you can use your skills.”

If that’s the case, then that tether I felt is probably [Selection]. It feels thin and ephemeral, a tiny touch upon the world, but it also holds more personal meaning to me than that. Selection is, in a way, what I do.

I breathe out, letting the feeling wash over me. The insistent poking at the back of my mind disappears. “Using your skills is possible with just one vessel. I used [Selection] to learn what the stats do.”

Inu smiles and nods. “I know. Been using [Empathy] to borrow some of your calm.”

That sneaky girl. “What do you want to do after we get the map?”

“Family,” she says. “My parents are probably worried.”

“We’ll head there next. Food and water first. Shelter shouldn’t be too much trouble. Afterwards…” I look at the eyes in the sky. “Levels.”

Chapter 2: Ranger

Gradually, the screams die down.

One after another is silenced. Either their lungs are hoarse, or they’re cut down by monsters. People stop driving their cars through shop windows, and the initial carnage is dealt with in a few hours. Police are all about, like scurrying little cockroaches. The fire department is desperately trying to save people from rubble - cutting into goblins with those red axes.

Throughout the carnage, I don’t mind them too much. Some of the older people try to tell me off about restricted areas and being safe and all that, but I just walk on. They don’t matter, not anymore, and as long as they aren’t dangerous, I don’t let them slow us down.

Inu pulls me up over another piece of rubble, the car alarm beeping beneath us, and the ranger store comes into sight. It’s a minor tourism attraction, and the windows are already shattered. “Think people took all the maps?” Inu asks.

I shake my head. “Not while the internet still works.” My phone beeped a while ago with an emergency alert, but I paid it no mind. Right now, satellite footage of Earth was still available - not live, though, since a dome of eyes blotted out the sky. 

Whenever I look up, some of those eyes seem to have disappeared, and new ones emerge. It’s rather creepy. ‘Voyeurs,’ I chide the things up there in my mind.

Inu nods. “Right. They probably just grabbed the rations.”

As we approach the station, though, there are more screams. And growls. Not the kind of growls the goblins make, which is more of a humanoid snarl. Genuine, deep growls, like those of a wild animal.

[Wolf lv. 3]

Its snout is drenched in red blood. I see the bodies of a few kids around. A school excursion out here? They must have huddled in there for safety. The teacher is nowhere to be found, and there aren’t enough for it to have gotten the whole class, but there sure are a few.

Behind me, Inu retches, disgusted at the sight of the creature, or maybe the corpses. I simply walk forward, the axe firmly in my grip. There’s a dagger in my second hand. Sharp obsidian, with a too-small wooden handle.

Fear bubbles in my chest. I curiously examine the emotion, then gently embrace it. It’s okay to be afraid. But it doesn’t control me. The wolf snarls louder, giving me a terrifying bark, but I keep my pace toward it steady and measured.

I [Select] it.

A tether builds between me and the wolf. Curiously, I play with the skill. What does [Selection] mean? Well, obviously I select something, targeting it to some degree. But with what? 

When figuring out the stats, my intent was to figure out their purpose. I was selecting them while wanting to gather information. I don’t need to know more about the wolf. Instead, I [Select] it as a target to receive damage, and suddenly it doesn’t look as terrifying anymore. In fact, I feel like I can take it.

Slowly, gently, I step towards the creature. We’re 10 steps apart, then five, then three. At that moment, it lunges.

It’s terrifyingly fast, flying at me. It’s also predictable. Almost lazily, I step to the side, snapping out my knife, and catching the wolf. 

Carried by its own momentum, a large gash appears in its side, tearing the weapon from my hand. My wrist hurts, having been wrenched to the side, but the pain is minor. My skin also still itches. I hate the feeling. The wolf howls in pain and fury, snapping towards me. For a moment, I feel almost bad for the hungry animal.

Then, I [Select] it as the target for my second skill. [Suppression] snakes out of me, leaving me gasping for air. My vessel feels strained, and the air begins to tingle up against my skin. But while I’m left gasping for breath, the wolf finds itself [Suppressed].

Suddenly, its heart struggles to pump blood. Its legs struggle to move. Its blood struggles to clot, and more of it pools from the gnarly wound. The wolf crashes to the ground and rolls - breaking off the obsidian knife inside of it.

By then, it’s already dead.

Inu walks towards me, handing me a new knife with shaky hands. I accept it calmly, watching as the wolf dies.

[You have killed a lv. 3 Wolf]

I nod at the notification, slowly accepting the pointless death, then turn to the ranger station. The windows are shattered, and the door blown off its hinges. Inu walks inside, and I follow her, this time. She knows it better, though with the mess it’s in, I don’t know how much that matters.

Wrappers and pieces of dried meat are strewn all over the floor. There are also the bodies. They don’t smell too bad yet, but ants are already crawling over the floor. I select one of them.

[Lv. 0.01 Ant]

I blink. “Huh,” I say. “Ants have levels.”

“What?!” Inu’s head snaps to me. 

“Ants have levels. In fact, I imagine everything that classifies as ‘alive’ might, then.”

“Terrifying,” she says, shaking her head. “A bacteria that kills a human… how much would it grow? How long until a plague wipes us all out?”

I grab a packet of orange juice from one of the shelves, poking the straw inside, then sip from it. “Dunno,” I reply, brushing my hair aside again. “Troublesome for real.”

The girl stares at me for a long moment. I look at her short, black hair, the braids in it coming undone already. She looks at me with those hazel eyes and a button nose, and I just wait. “You’re not concerned at all,” she notes.

With a shrug, I sip some more orange juice. “Nope,” I say. “This is all very real, I’m pretty sure. But… whatever. I’ll just save who matters to me. Don’t care about the rest of humanity.”

“Who matters to you?” she asks. It’s a loaded question, but thats okay.

I smile. “It’s a short list. You, Thatch, Opal, Sylves. Everyone else is too far away to worry about.” I had online friends, and some might’ve already left me messages, but out of all of those, only a few really matter. If I reach them, I reach them. We’ll see.

Inu looks at me. “Well,” she says slowly. “I’m glad I made your list.” There’s a tiny, faint smile on her lips.

“Agreed,” I say. “Couldn’t think of a person I’d rather be spending the apocalypse with.”

Sure, there were people who were better equipped. I’d imagine that farming levels early would be pretty easy with a gun, for example. I could’ve tagged along with a police officer, with some street thugs, with anyone who’s a bit more hardened than the empathetic girl with me. 

But I don’t wanna. 

“Right,” she says. “Thanks, Snow. I’m glad to be with you, too.”

“You should. I saved your life a couple times already,” I deadpan.

At that, the girl gives me a long look, then snickers. “Oh, shut up,” she says. “I was fi-”

Then there’s a hiss, and she screams as an arrowhead pokes out from her shoulder.

Chapter 3: Supplies

The world was ending, and I couldn’t care less. Now, Inu is hurt. Suddenly, it matters.

I look at the arrow, and select it. I want to know everything about it. Energy tears out of me, my vessel emptying, yet I pull more. It hurts. My heart aches, but I need to know more. 

The whistling sound replays in my mind, time playing in reverse, and then I see it - my tether, streaking through the air, along an almost-straight, invisible path. Then it swerves. Down to where the archer is.

Without hesitation, I break off the obsidian from my knife, cutting open my hand, then throw it with all my might. The cut hurts and bleeds. I’m in pain, but that’s okay.

It wasn’t a very skilled archer. They’d been close, only moved after shooting, and hidden behind a bush. As I throw the obsidian shard, it tears through the air, then impacts. There’s a very human scream, and I arrive at the bush only a little later, seeing the bloodstains and a cowering old man.

His fingers shake. A piece of obsidian juts out of his elbow. “Oh. Oh no, please, I-”

My axe finds his skull. He falls over, dead. 

[You have killed a lv. 1 Human] 

There was no justification. No reasoning, no excuse. I had selected him as someone to die, and so he died. I had selected Inu as someone to care about, and so I cared.

Simple decision making.

With the old archer dead, I take a deep breath and stalk back towards the ranger outpost. Inu kneels on the ground, crying, gritting her teeth. “Use [Empathy]. Share some pain with me,” I tell her. She turns to me, seeing the blood covering my clothes, and grits her teeth harder.

I don’t know if the skill works that way, but it seemed to matter more whether she believed it could be used that way, rather than if it actually could. Inu hesitates. She wants to speak, but her jaw doesn’t move, all her muscles clenched.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, patting her head softly. “I can take it.”

The pain is exquisite. 

It burns, searing its way through my shoulder. I almost gasp, but don’t permit myself to. I [Suppress] the pain, even as I scrape the bottom of my vessel. There’s little left to give, but that was fine. It hurts, and yet I stand.

I breathe. Slowly, but surely, then give Inu a smile. “Better?” I ask.

She looks at me, teary-eyed, and nods. “Better,” she says. Her eyes shake. I’m glad the corpse is in a bush so she doesn’t have to see it. She’d recognize the tragedy in it. Maybe even shed a tear for him. I don’t want her to cry more than needed.

“Okay. We should get that arrow out.”

“I’ll bleed out,” she says.

I smile, just a little. “[Resist] the bleeding, then.”

Her eyes widen, just a bit. In truth, I was rather sure that Inu is the tougher one among us. She had always been. Faster than me, stronger than me… And I was her stability. The deep, uncaring anchor. Even as her make-up smudges from the tears, I see her turn determined.

“Right,” she whispers. “Right.”

The arrow has only barely pierced through her, thanks to that same skill, I imagine. So there’s plenty for me to grab at the back. It was made from wood, tough wood, too, but with so much leverage, I can snap it. “This might hurt,” I warn her, then break the wood.

Inu gives a gasp of pain, and I’m tempted to go stomp on the old man’s head. Then, I draw more on my fading vessel stat, and suppress the pain. I put the handle of one of the daggers in Inu’s mouth. “Bite down on that. This’ll hurt worse.”

She nods bravely. I take a deep breath. [Empathy] still links us together, so it might hurt me just as bad as her. Well, I’ve always had a good pain tolerance. Time to put it to the test.

I shove the arrow all the way through her shoulder, pulling it out in one fell swoop. 

It’s liquid fire, pouring into my veins. My shoulder screams in agony, and Inu roars into the leather-wrapped wood. The world goes blurry for a bit, spinning, as my body reels to catch up. I knock into and then lean on a counter, but remain standing, barely. Inu sinks forward, her head touching down on the wooden floor. The glass shards don’t even mar her skin.

A long few moments pass, as the pain slowly fades. She resists it, as I told her. The hole is smaller than the arrow was, but still passes all the way through her. Another few moments pass by. Inu spits out the dagger, then screams in pain. “Fuck!!!”

I nod. “Sounds about right,” I say, same monotone as always, though a little strained, then hand her a bottle of water. She rips it open and downs it in one, like an animal. I brush white strands of hair out of my face as I watch her drink.

At the end, she throws the bottle aside, discarding it haphazardly. “What happened to not littering?” I ask her.

A low, rumbling laugh tears itself from her sore throat. “I find myself a lot more apathetic at my responsibility towards the world all of a sudden,” she says.

“Yeah,” I say. “Same. You okay?”

She pushes herself off the floor with her good arm, shakily standing. “I’ll survive. So long as [Resistance] works on infections.”

“I’m sure it does.” Feeding her confidence likely makes it true, so that’s what I do. “Especially if you level up heart.”

“Right,” she says after a pause. “Right. Because that’s a thing now.”

I nod, then grab both of us a backpack each, replacing the one I brought from home, stuffing them with water, beef jerky, cereal bars, dried berries, and all the other food items around the shop, as well as the stuff I brought, like my headphones. The backpacks are big, meant for hiking, and can fit an awful lot. I also put multiple maps in each one. Knowing where to find a river could be life or death.

Inu watches me throughout it all, leaning against a counter. The link of [Empathy] is still active. I feel her borrowing some of my calm, and I share it easily, having plenty to spare. In return, she gives me some of her pain, which I handle without complaint. 

Eventually, we’re ready to head off. Her wound has scabbed over already, dried blood sticking to her cardigan. It’s late spring, and not too cold, but she still looks at the stain mournfully. “I loved that cardigan,” she says.

I smile. “Yeah. I liked my hoodie, too.” It was long and black, the kind that went down to my mid thighs.

“Rectangle,” Inu teases.

My smile brightens. “Wonderful, right?”

She shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you sound ready to walk,” I say, holding out the backpack to her. She reaches out, then flinches back, having stretched her hurt arm. Instead, she slings it around her left, and I help her get the strap around her other shoulder.

It’s finicky, and takes some time, but we get it done in the end. Then, we head off. “Your home, right?” I ask. We could go to my flat, but… no. I have everything I need with me.

Inu nods slowly. “Yeah,” she says. “My parents…”

“Yeah,” I say. “I know. Your family. Then Thatch, Opal, Sylves.”

She nods again. “Okay. I’m fine with that.”

Chapter 276: Next Stop

Chapter 276: Next Stop

About two hours later, Mercury gently apologized to an old, balding chef for the delay in his opening times. The old man grumbled a bit, but eventually handed over two pots that were worn down and rusty for Mercury to take care of, which he swiftly did.

No one from the Lilac Skies sect came to bother him anymore. In fact, most of the disciples now avoided him, actively taking wide births around his shop. Apparently, that was the instruction that the sect leader had passed down: To just not interact with him whenever possible. And to treat him with respect when it had to happen.

Mercury hummed happily to himself as he plied his trade. There was something rather meditative about smithing, after all, and working on so many sentimental pieces made him happy. This was going to mean far more to people than a sharper sword, he noticed. And for the first time, he realized another aspect of why Yasashiku had made him forge nails over anything else.

They were used to build things. That was the point of a crafter. To make stuff, rather than destroy it. Swords were cool, yes. They were flashy, often beautiful and appreciated by the powerful. Weapons needed to be well-made more so than most other things. They were people’s pride and joy.

But they were still weapons.

Making a sword inherently held the promise that it would be used to hurt someone. That it would be swung, and hold up better than another sword. That it’d cut through bristle and bone, through skin and flesh. Sever life itself.

And that was less nice a thought than Mercury expected. In fact, it made him frown a bit to think of it. So, he was rather happy that it wasn’t what he’d been made to do.

Sure, nails could be used to hurt someone. They were even rather common to use in torture. But 99% of the time, they were rather simple things. Meant to hold a structure together. To make sure someone had a roof over their head, and walls around them. Nails were a promise of safety. 

Humming, Mercury brought down his will in a final quick blow, then spun the pot in his ghostly hands. He could have used his regular hands for it, but by now he was rather used to doing it with <Force of the Hecatoncheires>. It was a bit of a chore to get used to having hands again, really.

Mercury chuckled to himself at that as he stepped outside of his trusty log. With a small movement, he handed the repaired pot back, and collected his payment, then took the next project from him to work on - this one a noodle roller. Who’d have thought that one day, he’d be complaining about having hands, eh? Surely he was meant to be complaining about how bad it was not to have them!

<Force of the Hecatoncheires> truly was a wonderful quality of life Skill. The ability to grip and move things was amazing. The Skill even provided tactile feedback - but only when he allowed it to! Which meant he could, technically, use it to grab noodles from soup with his little ghost fingers and not even get them feeling wet or icky.

The simple ability to touch things without having them rub off on his digits was incredible. Something that human hands simply couldn’t emulate. His ghost hands were always clean, always free of dirt and debris. Which was a wonderful advantage.

Retreating into the log, he took the noodle roller apart with deft movements. Usually, he’d have needed an engineering skill for that, but he felt the mastery simply flow into <Magical Metallurgy>, and his understanding of the machine was rapidly enhanced by all his learning Skills. Namely, in this case, <Perceived Ease>, <Fast Learner>, <Greater Perception>, <Lucidity>, <Tapestry> and <Unravel>.

If understanding things were a competition, Mercury would have been winning.

Shaking his head softly, he found the part of the machine that was causing trouble. One of the gears on the internal mechanism had broken a spoke, rusted from some water getting inside. He gingerly picked it out - again, ghost hands. Truly incredible.

Then, with a bit of <Unravel> and <Magical Metallurgy>, he took off the rust, and fused the missing piece back on. Then he placed it back inside, checked the mechanism, frowned as the gear was faintly too small, and sighed. With a bit of scrap, melted down and coating the gear in an alloy, he fixed that defect, too, then slotted it back in its place.

When the machine worked well, Mercury nodded to himself, sealed the mechanism back up - waterproof this time - and included an easier access point that didn’t require cutting the machine open.

Once he returned that, someone else handed him another piece to work on - a dented chestplate. Mercury raised an eyebrow. “Saved my gran’s life in the last war,” a young woman replied with a shrug. “Thought with a repair it might save mine.”

Smiling faintly, Mercury shook his head. “I’d recommend you simply don’t go to war, young lady.”

She snickered at that, then shook her head. “No can do. Someone’s gotta fight the right battles.”

At that, Mercury tilted his head. “Tell you what,” he said casually. “Come back in the eve, when I’m closing up, and I’ll have another look. In exchange, rather than pay, you can simply tell me what that fight is about.”

With that, he handed the armor back to her, even as her eyes narrowed. “Fine,” the woman eventually said. “If you’re one to take a story over coin, I won’t refuse.”

Watching her walk off, Mercury shook his head again. With a small smile, he took a kitchen knife that needed sharpening and a new handle from another old man who grumbled about the youth these days. As old people often do.

- - -

“So it’s a blood feud,” Mira Joo explained slowly. 

“What’s that?” Mercury asked, tilting his head.

The young woman huffed at that, her raven hair bouncing from the motion. “You really aren’t from around here, huh?” she asked, fixing cold, calm blue eyes on him, she eventually smiled. “A blood feud is when two families agree to fight until one is wiped out, basically.”

“That sounds harsh,” Mercury hummed.

Mira nodded with a shrug. “It is,” she said simply, not denying it. “But that’s the cycle of violence. They kill someone, we kill someone in return, they kill someone in return, we kill someone… You see how it escalated.”

Her almost casual dismissal of it all made Mercury bristle a bit, but at the same time, he did understand. Violence had a way of desensitizing people. At some point, what was another life lost, right? He sighed, though, feeling frustrated.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

Zyl chuckled, and Mercury gave the dragon a small glare. In response, his boyfriend just held up his hands placatingly. “Didn’t say anything!” Zyl protested. Still, Mercury narrowed his eyes at the amused dragon for a moment, before turning back to Mira, and gesturing for her to talk.

The woman gave a soft nod at that. “Some hundred years ago,” she started, “the Joo clan and the Yung clan were close allies. Our ancestors were close companions, having fought alongside one another in the martial world. They both founded clans, and went on to have good relations. Until, of course, one day, the Yung clan’s young master killed the Joo clan’s young lady.”

Mercury blinked. “... Just like that? Like, was it recreational?”

She shrugged. “Not like anyone remembers. It simply escalated from there. It doesn’t really matter, anyway, since things simply went on from there. The Joo clan’s elders were outraged and demanded blood, the Yung clan refused, we attacked an outpost, they attacked back, so on and so forth.”

Her expression at the retelling was almost boring. Like it was… routine, at this point, to just occasionally go out and murder someone? “Have you ever considered stopping?” Mercury asked.

“Oh, sure,” Mira said, then raised an eyebrow. “But have you tried convincing the elders of that? No, that would be a huge loss of face. We either win or die, at this point.”

Mercury frowned. “That seems kind of sad.”

Mira narrowed her eyes. “What do you know, hm? Has your family ever received so grave an insult?” 

“I don’t have a family,” Mercury replied calmly. That made her face somehow both fall and tense up, as if trapped between sympathy and mockery.

“My… apologies,” she eventually decided on. Mercury couldn’t quite read her tone from it, but that was fine. Calmly, he nodded, then got up, and took her armor.

“Accepted. I will be repairing this for you. Then, I may pay your family a visit.”

“Knew it,” Zyl whispered smugly, and Mercury shot him a glare. Very quickly, the dragon snickered and took a few steps back, outside Mercury’s immediate reach. The mopaaw, of course, was undeterred, ruffling his hair with <Force of the Hecatoncheires> for the grave insult he gave, to Zyl’s incredible horror. The dragon spluttered, and instantly went about fixing his hair as Mercury turned back to Mira.

The woman eyed the two of them with some amount of confusion. “Pay my family a visit?” she asked calmly. “Why?”

“Because I dislike blood feuds. So, I’ll stop it,” Mercury said simply.

When Mira started sputtering about how he couldn’t do that, how age-old grudges weren’t so easily buried, Mercury simply shrugged and headed into Logston, to little Pandora. There, he heated the armor, forged away the dent, added some extra steel and alloyed it on with his Skills to preserve uniform thickness of the armor.

Once it was finished, Mira had calmed down a bit in the outside world, though she was kind of just staring out a window. Her eyes were glassy, even when her voice had been so calm this entire time. What a sad fate it was, to be born into a martial world like this.

“Here,” Mercury said, handing her the mended chestplate. It was forged from cold-iron, which was hard to replicate, but Mercury did have a small stash of it - courtesy of the Lilac Skies sect who had made a truly generous donation to his cause. They did demonstrate their righteousness, after all, in the most truthful and upright way they knew how: involuntary monetary donations. 

Mira turned it over and stared at the piece of metal in her hands. “It’s… perfect,” she said slowly. “How?”

Mercury shrugged. “I fixed it,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“You would do this in exchange for just a story?” she asked, her eyes wavering slightly.

Another shrug. “Sure,” Mercury said. “Depends on the story, of course.”

“In that case,” Mira said slowly, turning over the armor in her hands. “I’m sure our elders would welcome you eagerly…”

Snickering to himself, Mercury nodded. “Right,” he said. “They probably would.”

“I hereby extend a formal invitation for you to visit the Joo clan’s family grounds, esteemed smith,” the young woman said with a small bow to him, just a few degrees but hinged at the waist.

“Stand, stand,” Mercury said, waving her off. “I humbly accept your invitation. When are you leaving this city for them?” 

“Three days from now,” Mira provided. “Noon.”

Mercury smiled sagely, then nodded. “I will meet you at the gate, scion of the Joo clan.” 

Taking his words as a dismissal, which they admittedly were, Mira turned around, then headed out of the inn. Mercury’s eyes slowly drifted to Zyl, who was very casually leaning back in a chair, legs crossed, resting his chin on an arm.

“Do you have to look so dashing when you’re teasing me?” Mercury asked, rolling his eyes.

That made Zyl snicker again, but the dragon quickly composed himself. “Of course, my love,” he explained with a saccharine smile. “For if I were less dashing, you might think to retaliate.”

“Yes, fine, I’m getting involved in conflicts that are none of my business again,” Mercury admitted with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. 

“And I love that about you,” Zyl said with a gentle smile, wrapping him in a hug. “If you didn’t, I don’t think we would have gotten this close. I’m happy you choose to involve yourself with people.”

Mercury groaned slightly, but still leaned into the hug, wrapping his own arms around Zyl. “Good,” he said, “cuz I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“Better not,” Zyl said with a warm smile. “We might get bored if you don’t stick your head into every single conflict you can find.”

That made the mopaaw laugh, and he enjoyed the hug for a few more seconds. Then, finally, he slowly pulled away. “What will Min think when we tell him?” Mercury said with a small sigh. 

“He may be devastated,” Zyl said, brushing some of Mercury’s hair out of his face. “But it is a sacrifice I am willing to make.”

Once more, Mercury snickered, then gave a soft sigh, resolving to tell the merchant tomorrow. Surely it’d go okay.

- - -

Min dropped the pot he was holding, ceramic within inches of shattering on the floor, before Mercury caught it with his telekinesis. “You are what?!” the merchant demanded in shock.

Smiling apologetically, Mercury repeated himself. “I’m going to go along to the Joo family grounds in order to try to stop their blood feud with the Yung family,” he repeated himself. 

The merchant broke out in splutters in reply to that. No no! This couldn’t be! His newest source of revenue would dry up so quickly?! The sheer horror of it! “Come now, saviour…” he tried. “Surely there must be better ways for you to spend your time.”

Tilting his head softly, Mercury asked. “Really? What ways would that be?” And instantly, the sweat along Min’s back grew freezing.

What a dangerous question! Laced with poison. He should have expected nothing less of his saviour, he supposed. The man had been nothing but shrewd and ruthless until now. A fierce warrior, one who was so far above the others he had the luxury of choosing mercy when needed. But even then, getting involved in a feud between clans…

“I cannot recommend this, saviour. You may put yourself in danger!” 

At that, Mercury just laughed, and Min knew he had lost his chance. “Danger?” the mysterious cultivator asked, a faint smile playing along his lips. “Friend Min, I don’t mind danger. If I lose my head over this, so be it. But it is the duty of the righteous to stand in the way of bloodshed, is it not?” he asked.

Righteous? Min almost laughed. If that was what it meant to be righteous, then all the sects in the land must have been underworldly! Hah! No, that was not righteousness. To be righteous was to act with justification - to shed blood over grievances, rather than for greed.

But, then again, what were grievances? How easily could they be engineered? 

Righteousness was acting in the sun, that was all. Min knew that. The righteous sects were just as ready to bleed anyone dry as the cults. Min frowned, then looked Mercury up and down once more. “Fine then, saviour. I see I won’t be changing your mind on this,” he said, looking aside.

“Come now, Min,” Mercury said gently, placing the valuable earthware he had caught down on the merchant’s rug. “Don’t be so glum.”

“This one would not dare be glum around his esteemed saviour,” Min said, cupping his fist and bowing, deeply. But he could not hide the frustration. Looking at Mercury, the way he acted, was as if to be a shadow staring at the sun. Min was not an unkind person, but he certainly wasn’t good, either. He was happy to fleece, to negotiate, to run people for as much as they were worth.

In short, he was kind of a jerk. Not enough of one to be worthy of death, surely. His business was perfectly legal in every way, of course. Merchants needed to be somewhat fair, for good will was a currency too. One he wanted to leverage against Mercury.

And one he failed to leverage.

“Sure,” the mopaaw said, waving him off. “You’re allowed to be angry with me. I know you wanted to earn more money from me. That’s why you haven’t been asking for the monks I asked your help in seeking.”

Min’s blood froze. Mercury continued relentlessly.

“I can forgive that. In fact, I understand. You’re a merchant. You saw an opportunity in me. That’s why you tried to stick around. And I’m okay with that. You did me some small services, I did you some. But to frame it as a betrayal for me to leave… that’s a bit audacious of you,” he hummed. Min shrunk away under his gaze. There was a way that those words instilled guilt into him.

“Saviour, I didn’t mean to-”

“You keep calling me saviour, Min,” Mercury said. “Yet you don’t treat me as one. I even told you not to call me that, yet you keep doing it. And again, I can forgive that. It makes me bristle, but that’s fine. Yet you use that word as a cudgel, and now, you must stop. There need not be any bad blood between us, merchant Min. You have told me you are a salesman, and that is precisely what you’ve been.”

Those words hit harder than any lash. Min had, in a way, betrayed his saviour for profit. It was a small betrayal, but a betrayal nonetheless, and to hear it told to him so plainly… he hung his head in shame. “This one understands, esteemed cultivator,” Min said, bowing his head. 

Mercury tilted his head, then smile and turned away. “Good,” he said, no longer facing the merchant. “If you understand, then do better next time. I have given you a lesson. Do not disgrace me by forgetting it.”

And then, before the merchant answered, his saviour was gone. A faint gust of wind was all that remained of the man who had so casually disappeared with a single step. Min was left alone, on his carpet of wares that suddenly felt so dirty.

He grit his teeth, and wiped his eyes. “Damn it all,” he muttered to himself. “Damn it.”

- - -

Sitting down in the tavern, Mercury wore his hat. He did not want to be seen, for a little while, so he enjoyed the feeling of cloth layers spilling down his shoulders like a waterfall. He closed his eyes, simply listening to the world, the chatter in the background, the noise of the kitchen, sizzling pans and good-smelling food.

He breathed in and then out. Let it all wash over him. For a long time, he felt like a stranger in a world not quite meant for him… until the noise of footsteps approached. A small scraping noise entered his ears from the table in front of him, and Mercury opened his eyes, seeing the muffled silhouette of the innkeeper through the veil. 

“Soup,” the old man said, simply, with a warm smile.

Mercury stared at the bowl for a long moment. His heart beat in his chest, and he let out a shaky breath. “What did I-”

“You need it,” the innkeep said, nodding. “I can tell when someone needs soup, lah.” He tapped the side of his head with a wink. “And you need soup. Eat, eat. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“But-”

“Ayaya, you foreigners, always so whiney. If someone gives you soup, you eat the soup! Nothing about deserving or undeserving. You’ve been good customer! Always pay on time, resolve things neatly, draw in more customers. Even when trouble found you, it was clean! No dead bodies, and you even scrub away the blood! Sir, you been the best cultivator ever to visit my establishment.” 

The innkeep beamed at Mercury, smacking the table hard enough to make the bowl jump. At his words, the mopaaw couldn’t help but smile. With a slow movement, he took off the hat, and nodded slowly. “Alright. Thank you, sir.”

“You call me old Kan, cultivator.”

Mercury snickered, then nodded again. “Thank you, old Kan. You can call me Mercury.” 

Old Kan beamed once more, sitting across from him for another minute, and watching as Mercury ate the soup. Mercury enjoyed every spoonful, the broth, the vegetables, the not-quite-tofu were all lovely. Soon, he’d wolved down the meal, and asked for seconds, which made old Kan laugh out loud.

“Good man!” he praised. “Good man, good customer. Will miss you when you’re gone. Come visit again! There’ll always be a place for you at old Kan’s!”

And that promise, made with a man who asked so little of him, made Mercury smile again. It was nice, after all, to hear that one did enough. That simple courtesy paid off. And Mercury did like hearing it.

- - -

The next day he checked in on the bandits again. It was already afternoon when Mercury dared to head outside, when the angry rays of the sun had dulled, while construction was still ongoing - though winding down. He found the building site where Jean, Lucky and Brock were being put through the wringer.

All three of them wore head protection. Lucky was running back and forth, bringing tools to more experienced people. A forewoman barked orders at Jean from atop a building, telling her where to raise walls, and she hastily stomped the ground, matching her directions, sweating as she worked. Brock seemed the most relaxed, simply carrying around pillars and steel girders. Anything heavy was simply laid on his shoulders and brought from place to place.

Mercury took a long moment to watch from across the street, smiling faintly with his arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against a wall. With every passing minute, more of the building rose from the ground. Stone wreathed around, foundations formed, wooden pillars were erected, nails driven into it, spanning walls.

People scaled up the supports, carving and refining them, layering on paint with large brushes and giant leaps. The beastkin were cultivators too, some stronger and some weaker, with only a few mortals. Amusingly, the forewoman in charge of it all, was an entirely mundane wolf-woman, though she had such an air of authority it would have been impossible to guess.

“What’chu fuckin’ gawkin at over there!” she barked at Mercury.

He simply tilted his head, then pointed at himself in an unspoken question. “Yeah, you, cultivator! Never seen someone do an honest day of work in yer immortal feckin’ life?” she demanded, and more heads turned to him.

Some of them looked afraid, others seemed to recognize him, and when Jean looked over, she gave a radiant smile and a wave. Mercury waved back, and the forewoman stared at the ex-bandit in shock. “Oh damn, you know him?!”

“Yeah, he got me this job,” Jean said with a smirk.

Instantly, her expression shifted into one of glee. “Well, come over ‘ere then! You brought us some damn fine workers, hah! Needed to get their asses in gear, but by now they’re doing real well, cultivator man.”

Mercury smiled, lifted off the wall, and casually strolled over. “Glad to hear it,” he said, speaking much more quietly than the forewoman, but having his voice reach her all the same. “I hope they haven’t caused you too much trouble.”

“Hah! No more than expected. No more than I did when I started,” she said with a laugh, then quickly snapped her head to the side. “HEY! Who said you can slack?! Get your lazy fuckin’ bones in gear, and put that helmet back on! Safety first!!” she barked.

Snapping to attention, the worker placed her helmet back on her head, and nodded eager. “Safety first!” she yipped. 

Then, the forewoman turned to Mercury again. “So. Your kids are doin’ well, cultivator-man. C’mon, get a helmet and lift something. We can yap as we work.”

With a small smile, Mercury nodded. He didn’t mind. After all, he was taking her valuable time, so helping them work was nice. Though he refused the helmet, saying nothing here could kill him. The forewoman did only accept that once he had assured her in a legally binding way that they weren’t liable for any injuries of his.

Moving along with them, Mercury straightened out a bit of wood by simply asking the grain to shift. He bent nails back into shape, caught one falling worker before he got injured, and used his telekinesis to great effect in lifting things to higher floors. Within the hour, they’d finished the skeleton of the building, and the forewoman clapped. “That’s it for the day!!” she barked the order. “Good work, everyone! Drop your things, shift’s over!”

“Safety first!!” the crew responded, handing in their helmets and clocking out one by one. 

Eventually, that left Mercury with Jean, Lucky and Brock, as well as a good chunk of knowledge on how they’d been doing. In between orders, the forewoman had been rather accommodating of his questions, especially when she saw how efficiently he worked.

Apparently, that was the easiest way to win over anyone on a construction crew: getting work done. Jean gave him a smile, wiping some remaining sweat from her forehead. “Esteemed cultivator! Any particular reason you’Ve visited us at work?”

Mercury smiled and nodded. “I wanted to check in on you before leaving the city. Have you been doing well?”

Lucky’s jaw dropped. “Wait, what?!” he asked. “You’ll be leaving?”

“We will be, me and Zyl,” he nodded with a small smile. “No one here knows anything about the Skyflame Monks.” It was true - they weren’t mentioned once in the entire library of the sect. Him and Juno had stayed up all night checking each scroll and book diligently. 

“Damn,” Brock said. “We’ll be missing you.”

“To think you were scared to death of me a week ago,” Mercury said with a chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you came around.”

Jean nodded with a smile, hanging her uniform over her shoulder. “Well, it’s true. You got us in here, paid off our bounties, and found us a job that pays well. And we were nothing but whiny along the way. But people have been… nice. Surprisingly so.”

“First time no one’s tried to shank me,” Brock said with a huff.

“The beds are a bit hard, but I will manage,” Lucky said jokingly.

Smiling, Mercury nodded. “I’m glad, then. You’ll be safe by yourselves?”

“We’ll be fine, cultivator,” Lucky said, scratching his head with a grin. “Where are you headed?”

“The Joo family estate,” Mercury said casually.

And this time, Lucky’s face fell. His mouth dropped open. “T-the Joo family?” he stuttered carefully. “I- uh, are you… sure? Esteemed cultivator, ser, that’s…”

Looking at him, Mercury tilted his head, and just waited. For a few more seconds, Lucky sputtered, then all the air left his body and his arms hung limply. There was a war raging in him, but Brock simply clapped him on the back loud enough to make the scrawnier man groan. “Ah! What was that for?!” Lucky complained.

“Courage,” Brock nodded, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Lucky bit his lip, then nodded. “Yes, fine. The truth is… I’m the young master of the Yung clan. I staged the poisoning of the Joo’s young mistress so that she could run from home, and was exiled for it.”

“Oh,” Mercury said slowly. “Well, shit.”

Chapter 275: Merciful

Chapter 275: Merciful

Min sprinted down the stairs. His footsteps, more than anything, belied his feeling of terror. With painfully swift motions, he tore through the distance, panickedly knocking at the door to Mercury’s room. “Esteemed saviour,” he pleaded at the wooden slate, “please, come out. There is someone here to see you, there is-”

He paused, when the door swung open outside, and scrolls and books poured out like spilling water. Min’s jaw fell as he beheld the insides of the chamber, which had so swiftly turned into something more library than living space. For a long, passing moment, he just stared.

“What is it?” Mercury asked, rubbing his eyes.

“The- the Lilac Skies’ sect master is here,” Min admitted quietly. “He suspects you to have stolen from their library, esteemed saviour.” The implications were left unsaid as Min’s eyes lingered on the books that so easily spilled out of the room.

At the confession, Mercury gave a hum, his eyes glinting. “Hmmm, does he now?” he asked, scratching his beard. “Well, then I better go and have a conversation with him.” A soft sight left his lips, and he patted Min’s shoulder. “Good man,” he said. “Thank you for calling me.”

And with that, he crossed his arms behind his back and walked up the stairs, no real hurry to his motions. A dozen seconds later, a very sleepy Zyl yawned a plume of fire as he walked out, glancing at Min. “Oh, uh,” he said hastily. “You… didn’t see that.” Then he yawned again, rubbing his eyes, and slouched upstairs.

Min was terrified, and yet, those two monsters stood entirely unfazed. “What in the nine realms…” he whispered, staring after them, before blinking and remembering himself. Instantly, he sprinted upwards, to see what was happening.

Outside, the sect leader was standing, wearing a scowl so deep it looked forged from 1000 year cold steel. The lines had worn into his aging face like they lived there, and Min instantly knew he was not a man who smiled often. Right now, that furious, unending scowl, was directed right at Mercury, as an Elder pointed him out in the crowd.

For himself, Mercury was ordering a bit of breakfast for himself and Zyl from the innkeep with a gentle smile, before finally heading towards the aggravated sect. There were elders gathered with core disciples, some wearing confusion, but most working hard to maintain a unified look of disgust and dislike.

“You,” the sect leader’s voice was a thunderclap into the silence of the inn. His raven hair fluttered in the air as killing intent flowed from him like an unending tsunami, making his robes flutter in the wind. “Are you the blacksmith that has taken up residence here, recently?”

Nodding quietly, Mercury held a hand in front of his mouth as he yawned. “Haaaah- yeah. Yeah, that’s me. What’s up?”

The sect leader’s eye twitched. The bloodlust coming from him redoubled, making Min step back. Standing too close made him want to spit blood, the cultivator’s fury far too much for him to withstand. “You have stolen from our sect.”

“No I didn’t,” Mercury replied.

More anger. “You deny this?! Wretch, we will forgive you peacefully if you return what you took, kowtow fifty times, and work for us for a decade,” he said with a sneer. “People like you need to know where they stand in this world. You have your place, and we have ours,” he rumbled, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The weapon resonated with his bloodlust, making Min step back yet again. The air felt charged like thunder, and Mercury smiled gently. “I extorted you,” he said quietly. “That’s not stealing. You crossed my bottom line, and so I took things in return.”

“You should know not to cross this line,” the sect leader hissed quietly, veins painting a picture of tempered fury on his forehead. The first inch of steel left its sheathe.

“Should I?” Mercury asked with a smile, tilting his head. “Or what? Will you cut my head off?” he waved his hand - the one he’d lost and just placed back on his stump like nothing happened. “Would that make you feel better?”

At that, the sect leader’s anger roiled. “Kowtow!” he demanded.

But Mercury just shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, like a warm summer breeze. “I’m afraid I won’t. I don’t bow.”

And that was the final straw. “Let everyone know,” the sect leader said with fury, “that the Lilac Skies’ sect is reasonable. We were willing to forgive this grudge if proper reparations were paid. Now, we will kill this man’s family for three generations. This is pride’s folly. You have eyes but could not see the sky, so you must pay.”

He drew his blade, and all that cold, roiling fury condensed alongside its edge. The sect leader’s movement was swift, a blur to everyone’s mortal eyes. The sword whipped out in a breath so quick it split the air with a gentle vision, and then a small thundercrack rumbled as the world remembered to react.

Already, the sect leader had sheathed his sword again, looking at the headless corpse still standing there with disdain. He looked around the room, eyes landing on Min. “Merchant!” he demanded, stepping inside the inn. “You are an associate. You must die, too.”

Instantly, sweat roiled down Min’s back. The sect leader had cut down his saviour so effortlessly. The merchant stumbled back, fear filling his veins as he scrambled to escape just a little further. But the old monster would not let up. Bloodstained blade in hand, he moved another step - then stopped.

There was a hand on his shoulder. 

The headless corpse’s hand.

For a moment, the entire room held its breath. Slowly, almost gently, the corpse held the sect master in place. His head turned to stare at it with fury, but the expression froze on his face. Instead, slowly, his lips parted in surprise as he stared at the body that held him.

And then, the corpse held up a finger, as if bidding him to wait. With gentle, careful movements, it walked over to its removed head, dusted off the wound - from which not a drop of blood had leaked, and then… pressed it back on, against the stump of its neck.

[<Assimilate> has levelled up! <Assimilate lv. 1 -> 2>]

The skin sealed shut, seared by a swift lick of fire across the wound. There was no scar, no sign that there had ever been an injury. Mercury just smiled as if nothing had ever happened. “You’ve claimed my head, sect master,” he said, with a saccharine smile into the dreadful silence that hung heavy over the inn. “Are you happy now?”

“Wh-what?!” the old man gasped, drawing and raising his blade, holding it between them like a shield. “What are you?! A flesh-puppet? Or is that the legendary phoenixfire resurrection art?! Explain yourse-” 

“Shhh,” Mercury said, as a crown appeared above his head. A silver circled, woven from elegant lines that curled around him, with a gem of roiling mercury. Instantly, silence descended on the room, pressing down on everyone inside. “Listen for a moment, please,” he asked, his voice calm.

“See, everyone has a bottom line, sect leader,” Mercury said, circling the poor man like a tiger stalking its prey. “I am a patient man. No flesh puppet, no monster. Just a man, with a tough body. Tough to kill. I am no cultist. I don’t drain anyone for this. I have fought long and hard to live as I do. Do not insult me for this,” he said, the threat hanging in the air.

“I let one of yours cut off my hand. I retaliated for an attempt to use my friends to get at me. Twice now, twice you’ve tried to force me into working for you.” His fingers reached out, caressing the edge of the sect leader’s blade. The steel rang with a beautiful sound as Mercury’s skin parted before its exquisite edge, coated in intent.

“And I’ve been patient, so very patient. They warned you, did they not? The spirits.” The sect leader’s mouth moved, but no sound left it. No noise split the oppressive silence, as it dug into everyone’s bones. “I assure you that I do not enjoy hurting people. I let you take my head. You could have left after that, and we would have had no trouble. But you tried to go further. To hurt someone who has nothing to do with this, for the crime of knowing me.”

There was a long quiet moment, as Mercury drew in another breath. “That, I cannot just let go.” His hand wrapped around the sect master’s blade. His skin split open from the steel. It was so supernaturally sharp, it would cut anything that even touched it, and yet, the strange cultivator held on. Metal flowed forward, dark and grim, flowing over his skin.

“Now, let me tell you what will happen. You’re going to let this go. I’ll take your sword. I’ll take copies of your sect’s innermost secrets as I peruse its vaults. And then, you’ll cut your hair for me. Go bald for a little while.” He drew a deep, long breath. “Those are my conditions. Speak.”

The silence vanished. As quickly as it came, the hanging emptiness in the air disappeared. Mercury’s hand was still on the sect master’s blade, even as the other man stared in wide-eyed disbelief. There was panic and fury mixing on his face. But already, it was clear he was not yet done. The sect master was not used to being denied, and so, he refused to let it happen here.

Instead of giving an answer, he simply bellowed. “Ancestor!!” he rumbled, shaking the ground with his yell. Somewhere deep down in the earth, a timeless seal cracked, and a jade-coffin slid open. Paper talismans fell to the ground, as the old monster inside it let out a groan, rolling her shoulders.

A moment later, she frowned, and the air shuddered.

One blink to another, a woman stood next to Mercury. She had grey-white hair, long enough to reach her ankles, neatly braided. Her robes were immaculate, though they hung a little around her too-thin frame. Age had won away at the fullness of her cheeks, leaving her looking skeletal, ragged.

Still, despite that, the power that poured from her was unimaginable. It was commanding. All-consuming. The kind that made Min want to spit blood and die just from the pressure she exuded. It was a violent thing that spoke of dozens of years of war. She regarded Mercury quietly, calmly, and sighed.

“You awaken me for this, sect leader?” she asked quietly, her voice brittle like flaking bone.

Instantly, the man fell on his knees. “Please, ancestor!” he begged. “This man has been stealing from our sect, he deserves to die!”

Her eyes, cold and aloof, turned to Mercury. Who just tilted his head a little. “That’s just categorically untrue,” he said calmly. The ancestor narrowed her eyes at him. 

“My name is Lilac Irene, founder of the Lilac Skies sect.” Her words came out slowly, like flowing honey, as she drew a blade and pointed it at Mercury’s chest. Which was a bit awkward, with his hand still wrapped around the sect leader’s blade. “Who are you?”

Mercury tilted his head further. “You ask questions,” he noted, then nodded. “Very well. I am Mercury. I brought my companions to this city to find them work. Your sect tried to cause a scene with them in order to recruit me for work, and I didn’t appreciate that. So, I took some copies of your library’s scrolls. All of them.”

“That is a wealth of knowledge you have taken,” Lilac said. “Do you truly believe it to be justified?”

“I believe it to be generous,” Mercury replied simply, waving his free hand. Her blade pressed into him further, its tip pricking his skin. “No blood other than mine was shed. The same rings true here. I have not hurt anyone here.” His eyes bored into her. “Yet.”

At that, Lilac barked out a laugh. “Hah! Think you have bite?” she asked, pressing further. Her sword dug into his chest, splitting it open beneath the cloud-white robes he wore. Almost lazily, the ancestor stepped forward, skewering Mercury.

“Are you done yet?” he asked calmly, when the tip of the sword protruded from his back.

Apparently, that was finally something Lilac didn’t expect. Her eyes widened, then narrowed with wariness. “What the…” she muttered, then stepped back, withdrawing her blade. Mercury’s wounds crawled shut with stored flesh being deposited where it was needed. “You use techniques of the cults-”

“No, I don’t,” Mercury said with a sigh. “I’m not even from here, lady. I don’t know what a cult is. But my patience is beginning to wear thin. Call your sect off.”

She frowned at the demand. “Watch your tone, boy. I have lived a hundred years before you saw your first sunrise. My blade has been sharpened to transcendence when you were but a babe. If you step out of line, I will carve you up.”

The words weren’t even intended as a threat, just a simple statement of truth… but that didn’t make them any less funny. Mercury snickered for a moment, then shook his head. “Always the same,” he said quietly, almost sadly. “Always the same.” He held out his hand. “Give me your sword, too.”

At that, anger clouded her features, storm clouds gathering in her vision. “What?” she spat, furiously. “Do not make demands of me, boy.”

“All this posturing,” Mercury said, slouching. “And for what?” he whispered. “For what…” Then, with a long sigh, he straightened his back, put on a thin smile, and nodded. “Zyl, you can beat her up now.”

“Oh good,” the dragon said with a wicked grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

That was the cue the mortals took to begin running - but there was no need to. When the words left Mercury’s mouth, and ancestor Lilac began to swing her blade, something very simple happened.

<Astral Ascent>. <Dream Manifestation>.

One moment, they stood in an inn, crowded with bystanders. The next, they were on a vast, grassy plain, far removed from anything. In the distance, there were wrought iron lanterns, and thin streams. A fountain, a citadel, a castle, and distant mountains. A moment passed as ancestor Lilac blinked, and then, her vision turned red.

Mercury still held onto the sect leader’s sword when fire bloomed in front of him. “Juno, could you take care of the rest of the sect?” he asked, quietly.

“Yes, my liege,” the wolf replied swiftly, her voice but a whisper from his shadow. A moment later, a blob of darkness disconnected from him, slithered across the ground, and wrapped around the elders’ and disciples. The darkness shifted to restrain them, bind their limbs as they were surprised, and soon, grassy tendrils and wisps of mist joined the binding shades.

They fought, of course. Qi burned, swords flashed, but Juno danced through them like a ghost. Her body turned to mist when it needed to, and her bites delivered ice, freezing entire limbs anytime she did get someone. 

Flickering flames painted Mercury’s face in light and shadow as he looked at the sect leader. The older man still scowled, now rising to his feet again, pulling on his sword. But it didn’t move.

He blinked for a moment, staring into the distance, where his ancestor was brutally battling with Zyl, flames spilling from his fists as they crashed into her mighty sword, the two of them darting through the sky, each clash a thunderclap. “Wretch. Once my ancestor finishes off your friend-”

“Boyfriend,” Mercury corrected gently.

“Fine, your boyfriend, she will have your head next,” the old man snarled.

Mercury nodded solemnly. “Because that went so well for you, right?” Stygian metal crawled from his hand to the blade, ensnaring it further. Tendrils of deepest darkness wrapped around it, metal snaking over metal.

The sect leader stared at the sight, and pulled. He tried, and, Mercury admitted, it was a good attempt. He even wrapped his intent around the blade again, giving it an aura. A feat of mastery over the blade that Mercury had yet to achieve. 

Nodding with respect, the mopaaw still held on, the Dream of Starvation slowly crawling over the blade. When the tendrils of darkness finally approached the sect leader’s hand, he grit his teeth and let go, stumbling backwards. “You worthless shitstain,” he snarled. “I will kill you seven times over for your sins.”

“Sir I’ve literally just been standing here,” Mercury said with an awkward expression. But it fell on deaf ears. Already, the sect leader was shaping another blade from intent and Qi, air and willpower twisting together to create a wonderful mirage of a sword. Darkness unveiled his original blade. 

Well forged and runed, it was now held lazily in Mercury’s hand. Amusingly, it was his first time actually holding a sword. How strange it was, to feel so human again. He swung the length of metal once, twice, a bit awkwardly, then smiled. “Y’know, I see how people get used to this.”

A blink later, the sect leader was in front of him. A gust of wind had carried him, driven by a technique that blended magic and martial arts. The ground cratered where he’d stood before, and the magic-woven blade cut towards Mercury’s shoulder, aiming to bisect him.

Stygian metal crawled across his skin, stopping the blow before it ever grazed his skin. If he’d been human, he might have bruised from it, but he wasn’t. The sect leader just stared, eyes widening as he blurred, moving into other forms. Striking at Mercury’s shape.

But when he parted the Storm’s Raiment, he found that Mercury had already shifted. The robes spread wide, blurring his shape. Mercury cast his true location under <Veil>, making it harder to find him.

[<Veil> has levelled up! <Veil lv. 7 -> 8>]

<Combat Sense> warned him of blows before they found him, and <Grain of Infinity> fed the former with as much power as it needed. Sighing lazily, Mercury flowed around the man’s attacks. Eventually, he even followed the sensation, and raised his own sword to block an attack.

His strength was lower than that of the sect leader - but his endurance was higher. Braced by the Dream of Starvation and the structure of his bones, it was more than possible for him to block any blows, simply casting all that effort into nothing.

The two were locked in a dance, as Mercury watched. And learned.

“See,” the mopaaw said slowly. “What I’m doing right now is stealing.” 

That only aggravated the sect leader further, and the man let out a roar. Horrid winds tore at Mercury, but then he looked at them and smiled. “Be silent,” he beckoned the air - and the air fell still. All the Qi that powered it turned into nothing but a dull hum in the background, blades settling to become nothing more than air.

Grimacing, the sect leader moved again, when fire plumed in the distance. Heat and light washed over the two combatants like a breeze, and Mercury’s skin blistered for a faint moment, before he asked the heat to settle, and it split away from them and the sect members - all neatly wrapped in shadow and ice by Juno.

Distracted, the old man looked over at his ancestor, and Mercury sighed. “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Get your head in the game. I’m trying to steal your technique, here. Show me more.”

“Steal my technique?!” the sect leader asked, instantly incensed. “Wretch! Give me some face! It took me ten years of swinging the sword and ten seasons of meditating on it to coalesce an aura! You will not simply steal it!”

Mercury looked at the old man as he swung. He’d learnt a lot about swords in his time on Chronagen, though, hadn’t he? It was kind of funny. So much knowledge on forging and biomechanics had been drilled into his head. He was familiar with the flow of combat.

Not as intimately as people who lived and breathed it, mainly because his fight was different… but well, intent was flexible, wasn’t it? So, Mercury looked upon what the sect leader did, the was his will wrapped around his weapon, sharpened its edge, and made it carve through the air so effortlessly.

“You’re a lot worse than Yvette,” Mercury noted drily. That woman was a far better warrior than him. But, then again, that wasn’t exactly a compliment, because she was also… well. A personality. She’d gotten better, of course, and that had done wonders for her swordwork.

In fact, he saw some of her in the sect master. “You’re too angry,” Mercury advised as he parried another slash. “You rush ahead in a hurry. Why do you need to kill me so quickly? Focus a little, man.” The words fell on deaf ears, but the advice made sense to Mercury himself.

Intent wasn’t a tool of mass destruction. It was an enhancer, a limitbreaker, letting a sword strike further, cut better than it ever reasonably should. A regular blade could never pierce regular metal armor. But one covered in intent may slice right through. Doing more than a weapon normally should.

And that, perhaps, was his breakthrough. 

Going past limits, huh? Mercury knew a little about that. His most evolved Skill, <Truth>, once was <Limitlessness>, after all. He smiled at the memory, and began to work.

He was wielding a sword, yes, and he tried to wrap his intent around it. At first, it was wisps of dissolving light, doing nothing much at all. But then, with each parry, the light grew denser. Mercury observed it, observed the shifting expression on the sect master.

The sword couldn’t cut through other metal, not usually. But Mercury was good at making unreasonable requests. He could ask grass to grow, ask water to flow upstream, ask metal to reshape itself. Limits were more like… suggestions.

If he wanted his sword to cut steel, then who was the world to stop him?

Defiance wrapped around the blade, forming a denser sheen of light along its edge. It was still fragile, uneven, and weak, but the coating stuck, this time. Will clashed against will, and for the first time, the sect master took a step back. “I think I’m getting it,” Mercury hummed with a smile.

“Damn you!” the old man growled, throwing himself at him in wild abandon.

Mercury sighed as he saw it, but obliged the old man. He moved in lockstep, manipulating his weight, his momentum, as he needed to. Flowing into combat, immersing himself, letting his mind process things far faster than they happened, evaluating the best choices, and drilling them into himself as instinct.

Every clash, he responded faster. Every time the two came to blows, it was easier. Every time, Mercury’s intent wove thicker. And then, finally, Mercury smiled.

“Dear blade,” he whispered to it. “Please, cut only what I will you to.”

He stepped forward and swung it again. 

The metal hummed with energy, silvery streamers trailing it through the air. It crashed into the sect master’s block - and shattered his weapon utterly. The Qi shattered into glassy, glossy fragments, and Mercury’s sword carried on unimpeded. It sank into the side of the sect master’s chest, carved a brutal line of violence through it, and emerged out the other side.

Mercury hummed in please.

He’d cut apart the sect master without leaving a single wound.

[You have acquired the Skill <Weapon Intent lv. 1> through a specific action.]

[<Combat Sense> has levelled up! <Combat Sense lv. 6 -> 7>]

The old man gasped, grasping at his chest. Expecting to find blood, only for his hands to come away clean. His knees buckled from expected pain - pain which never hit him. He’d been cut. But he hadn’t been cut. 

“What?” he rasped, confused.

“My intent is peaceful, you old moron,” Mercury said with a snicker. That’d been his breakthrough. He couldn’t convince himself to have the weapon carve someone apart for being stupid. It didn’t feel right to ask it to shed blood on his behalf.

But asking it to spare someone’s life? Well, that was a terribly unreasonable thing to ask a sword, right? And because it was so unreasonable, it worked. Mercury’s weapon intent - weapon, he noted, not sword - was one of mercy.

The sect leader crumbled, and his resolve fully shattered when the battered body of his ancestor landed in the dirt beside him. Zyl hung in the air, fire surrounding him. The sect leader regarded him with fear. “You embody a spirit,” he gasped.

Zyl snickered. “Zaza. Something like that, sure.” Slowly but surely, the ancestor rose her gaze, eyes no longer iron and defiant, to meet those of Mercury.

“This could have been so much simpler,” the mopaaw sighed. “I wasn’t even going to cause you any trouble. I’m just passing through. Let this be a lesson on greed, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Now. Are you gonna show me your sect’s core techniques, or am I going to have to start picking locks? I’m not good at picking locks, mind you. And I’d really just hate to wreck your decor.”

The two old monsters swallowed drily, looking at each other, and nodding slowly. “Yes, master cultivator,” they admitted quietly. “We shall share our strength with you.”

Mercury shook his head while Zyl laughed. “What a fricken pain. Alright, let’s go,” he said easily.

A moment later, the dream crumbled around them. <Astral Ascent> ended, and the aura of strength pooling off of Mercury vanished. To all senses, he was nothing other than an ordinary, somewhat eccentric middle-aged man again. With a smooth motion, he clasped his hands behind his back, tucking both his newly-won swords into the sash of his robes.

“Lead us there, then. I don’t have all day. There’s people expecting me to fix their kitchenware,” Mercury said, already looking forward to those simpler duties.

Chapter 274: Bottom Line

Chapter 274: Bottom Line

Mercury felt his blood rush through his body. It was made from ice and wood and flesh and bone, and yet still, blood pumped through it. It may have been silvery, metallic blood, woven from light and flesh and ice and air, but it was blood, and it boiled.

So, with all that anger, he moved controlled. He rose gently, slowly, up from the table, walked over to the laughing young lord, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Friend,” he said. “There is no need for that. Stand down. No need to make a scene.”

“You dare lay your hand on a scion of the Lilac Sky sect? I could have your hand for this, foreigner,” he spat the word as if it was an insult. Mercury just gently tilted his head. It was rather accurate, really. He wasn’t from this world, even. And he far preferred “foreigner” over something like “beast”.

Instead, he just pleasantly smiled. “Cut off my hand, then,” he said, extending his arm.

Instantly, the young master ground to a halt. “H-huh?”

“Cut off my hand,” Mercury repeated slowly. “Go on. You said I deserved it. If you want my hand to leave us alone, then take it.”

He watched as the young man swallowed, clearly taken aback. Even his posse, more younglings wearing lilac robes, though none as embroidered as the master’s, seemed to flinch at the statement. “W-Well,” he stuttered.

“Do you need help perhaps?” Mercury asked, tilting his head. “Hand me your sword then. I will cut off my hand for you. Seems they don’t teach their disciples to follow through on threats at the Lilac Skies sect, is that it?”

And that made the young man break. The provocation of his sect, the place that brought him all the status he had, was something inacceptable. It was worse than spitting on the graves of his parents. It was worse than calling him a little piss boy. It was an unforgivably grave insult to his honor, a slap to his face. And the young man drew his sword.

Mercury watched the blade with curiosity in his eyes. He saw the way its tip shook slightly in the air, even as the young man spoke angrily. He looked over the lines and waves in the metal, noting that whoever made it was good… but not as good as the nails Mercury made. There was a beautiful pattern along both sides, and elegant runes engraved along its centre. The crossguard was gilded, too, speaking of prestige, shaped as some family sigil, probably.

“You will regret your word. Bite your tongue, cur, lest you taint the air by screaming in pain,” the youth ground out from between gritted teeth. 

“Get on with it then,” Mercury waved his hand.

And, to his credit, that was all it took. The blade cut through the air, slammed into Mercury’s skin - and then ground to a halt about halfway through. It slammed into bone with a resounding, miserable scraping noise. “I think your edge alignment was off,” Mercury noted drily, as blood flowed from it.

He made sure the blood looked crimson, despite everything, and the young master seemed a little scared. “Wanna give it another go?” Mercury asked calmly.

This barely hurt him. With <Assimilation>, he could heal it rather quickly, and with <Babbling Brook>, the pain was nothing. He didn’t even flinch. The young master looked at it, at the way the sword rang, at his own shaking hands, the sweat covering his face, then he grit his teeth. 

Simple mission his ass! The elder said he just had to cause a scene with the bandits. Now the entire damn inn was staring at his shame. He had to keep going. Couldn’t back down. There was only cutting or losing. The world honed in to the edge of his blade, and he cut again-

Just as Mercury deactivated <Tempered Body>.

The hand came off easily, more like that of a toy than a human’s, and Mercury caught it before it stained the floors any further. Blood pooled from the wound, as the kid stumbled forward, his sword lodging itself in the floor. He was bent over awkwardly, and it took a moment to withdraw the blade, leaving him panting heavily, his Qi in disarray from the awkward motion.

Mercury just fixed the young master in his eyes, and held out his severed digit. “Here you are then. My hand.”

At that, the martial artist just stared. He swallowed again. It was a dry, horrid motion. “You… you can keep it, foreigner,” he managed.

“Ah, very well,” Mercury said, storing it away. Then, he leaned his stump on the scion’s shoulder, blood dripping onto his robes. “Say, is our debt settled now?”

“You stain the honor of my sect with your presence, still,” the young man somehow managed. “I ask you to leave.”

“Now, now. I took your honor, you took my hand. What’s a little fight between friends?” Mercury asked with a gentle smile. “Come, sit. Let this foreign friend pay for your soup.” He waved his stump in the air. “Innkeep! Four bowls, for Lucky and our friends here.”

And with those words, despite the bit of blood and soup on the ground, the noise slowly returned to the inn. People stopped holding breaths and turned towards their own food again, breathing sighs of relief.

When cultivators fought, mortals often added up as fodder. Hurt on the sidelines. They’d feared a splintered table at least, shards of glass and wood spraying across the room. They’d feared a collapsed building, or a part of the city turned into a crater at worst.

So, in comparison? A little bit of blood was a relief to most of these people. Mercury took a tissue, pressing it against the slowly stemming tide of vital fluid calmly. Jean, Lucky, and Brock were just staring at him, while Zyl wore a curious smile. The disciples of the sect moved in accordance with him, shell shocked, crimson red splattered onto their robes.

Noise enveloped them like a blanket, giving some privacy. Public places were the most private after all, and when everyone had settled, and everyone had a meal in front of them, he still waited. Only once the young master had broken his chopsticks, and moved to take the first sip of his soup, did Mercury speak again.

“I’m relieved,” he said calmly, eyeing the scion’s reaction as he leaned back with casual ease. “I almost killed you there.”

At that, the sect disciples froze again. “S-sir?” their leader asked. One hand was still on his chopsticks, but the other hovered on the hilt of his sword, shaking. 

“See, I’m patient. But I have a bit of a temper,” he said, cracking his knuckles on the table. “And I was really upset when you insulted my friends. I put my honor on the line for them, you see? So what does that mean you did…?”

The man swallowed again, fear slowly blossoming in him. “I… showed you no face. I spat on your honor.”

“You poured soup over my honor,” Mercury nodded. “Now, did you do so on your own? Of your own volition, young man?”

He grimaced, distorting his face. “Yes, sir,” he said, looking aside, taking on the fault himself. He had to protect the sect at any cost.

But when he glanced at Mercury, he saw that the stranger’s face had soured. That joviality had melted off, and he faced a stone cold… nothing. And then, he caught the foreigner’s eyes.

Then he felt himself fall apart.

Enormity crashed down on him. A deep, unending ocean of silver. Clouds, a patchwork sky, an eye within an eye, a truth and a lie, a horrible knowledge that he was seen, known, undone and unmade. A book to be read, stared into wholly, a transparent thing like a pane of glass, a fragile thing, so surreal, a fake, flimsy thing, an illusion, a lie, a person. 

And then it faded.

Sweat rolled down the young master’s face. He was an adult. He was meant to be able to handle himself. But nothing the sect taught him had prepared him for that. To feel himself unmade and rewoven as the exact same. To know he could come apart and yet not. To be so utterly, entirely perceived, known, witnessed, unravelled.

His eyes were wide as he stared at the stranger. Someone so normal, and yet so vast. Enormous. Oceanic. It felt like he’d drowned, and was now back on his seat. His hand shook. He swallowed again.

Mercury tilted his head. “Did you do it yourself?”

“Yes, e-esteemed sir,” the scion answered. 

Despite everything, he was a brave, tough guy. Mercury frowned faintly, then sighed. “Seriously, who put you up to this? <Answer>.”

“Elder Bo Dan commanded it, esteemed sir.” This time, the words tumbled out easily. There was no resistance, and his tongue felt feather-light in his mouth. Truth spilled forth like a waterfall.

“Why? <Answer>.” 

The man, for a moment, blinked, then nodded. “He wanted to force you into offering your services to the Lilac Skies sect. He would have made you produce gold for us, for as long as we could hold you.”

Silence fell heavily, only interrupted by Zyl’s snicker. “Well,” the dragon hummed. “That didn’t go so well, did it?” 

Mercury drummed his remaining fingers on the table with a soft sigh. “Thank you for your honesty, scion of Lilac Skies. Eat, then leave. Cause me no more trouble. I’ve stained your honor, and you took my hand. You stained my honor, and I took your truth. All is equal. Sand on the beach, water in the ocean.”

He waved his hands, dismissing the scion, and then faced his own bowl of noodles, eating calmly. There was some hesitation, then some eating sounds from his side, and then the shifting of seats and feet. 

“Sorry you had to deal with that, Lucky,” Mercury said with another sigh. He took out his detached hand, pressed it against his stump, and <Assimilated> it, mending the cut. It felt a bit numb for a few minutes, but as he moved his fingers, feeling returned to the digit.

The Storm’s Raiment, his robe, lashed out across the ground and the table, even enveloping Lucky for a moment in thin fog. It drew away the moisture, the blood, and everything else, leaving things spotless. 

Unlike Mercury, though, the bandit just seemed shocked. “Huh,” he said. “I never expected that to happen to me,” he noted drily. “That was… new.”

“Not to you?” Mercury asked, tilting his head.

Lucky snapped back to himself, then laughed it off, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, don’t mind it, don’t mind it. Just a bit out of it. I’ll sleep it off.”

“They’ll come for us again,” Jean noted drily. “Sects are greedy, and this was like a slap in the face for their elder. They’ll try to get even more from you.”

Zyl snickered again. “I doubt they will,” he noted gently, a faint smile playing on his lips. “We’ll take care of it tonight.”

Jean flinched at that. “Take care of it?” she asked, worriedly. “You mean… slaughter them all?”

“What? No, goodness gracious, no!” Mercury said, vehemently shaking his head. “I’ll just politely threaten them or something. Butchery is not my go-to solution to problems!”

Brock gave his hand a pointed look.

Mercury frowned. “Butchery of others. A hand isn’t a big deal for me, see?” He flexed his fingers to demonstrate his healing. “Minor inconvenience, these days. No trouble. Not worth killing someone over, at all. But, well…” his eyes narrowed a little. “I can’t exactly let them go unpunished, so…”

- - -

Night fell on Fuchsia City. Elder Bo Dan sat in his study, at his desk, looking over scrolls with fury in his face. He’d plotted and schemed and it had failed spectacularly. That idiot scion - he’d been demoted from core disciple to inner disciple for his grave mistake.

The elder had lost so much face in a single day. Failing to take care of a single, nameless foreigner? It was a pathetic display for one of their elites. But now, he had to double down. The only way to earn his respect back was to deal with the foreigner once and for all. To get him to work only for them, as a dedicated smith for, say, a decade or two, perhaps.

Huddled over plans as he was, he muttered to himself. The smith had gone too far. Crossed their bottom line with the humiliation. They had to retaliate, or lose their honor. “An assassin, perhaps…? No, too unsafe, too risky. We need something simple, make him slip. Perhaps an invitation to a tea ceremony…” 

Whispers and plots left his lips unceasingly, pieces sliding together like those of a puzzle, when there was a faint knock on his study. The elder creased his brows. It was deep in the night, the moon hanging high. Pale light barely filtered in through his windows, casting long shadows among dusty scrolls. 

Another knock from the door. Clicking his tongue, elder Bo Dan rose from his seat, straightened his back, clasped his hands behind his back, and strode to the door. Then, in a swift and graceful motion, he pulled it open. “You better have a good reason for disturbing me at this hour. What is-”

He paused. The words died in his throat as he saw what stood in front of him. That thing wasn’t human. It wore a mask with rings of fingers, reaching every inward and outward, fractal patterns of grasping force. It wore a crown of silver, and a woven robe of violent storm. Lightning crackled along clouds black as nice, and stygian metal enveloped brutal lengths of claw and fang.

The other figure was just as bad. A mask of billowing fire, consuming half its face. A creature covered in scales, dark horns from its head, fangs as iron, and wings of fiery death spread behind it.

A nightmare. It was a nightmare come true. What were they? Demons? Spirit beasts? Elder Bo Dan scrambled backwards, into his study, raising his voice, ready to cry out for the guards. 

Then his lips moved.

And not a sound left them.

Silence hung heavy in the air, like metal. It choked the words before they left his throat, it choked the air in his lungs, freezing his vocal chords. The wind stopped howling. The crickets stopped chirping. The world fell into complete and utter quiet. 

Bo Dan shivered, stumbling back further as the figures intruded on his study. They walked in casually, unbothered, eyeing the place as if it were an idle curiosity. Those eyes, red and purple, hungrily devouring everything, before landing on him again.

“Do you know why we are here?” the living storm growled. It took Bo Dan a moment to realize they were words - it simply faded into the crackle of lightning, noise buzzing with electric power. He breathed heavily, but shook his head, reaching for a drawer of talismans, when his hand froze.

His eyes trailed to the digit, and found it enveloped in liquid metal. It was cool, almost cold against his skin. He tried to pry his hand free, but it was like a vice grip. 

“<Answer>,” the Storm demanded, and Bo Dan crumbled.

“Yes,” the word tumbled from him breathlessly. “Yes, I know. It is because of the outsiders in the city. The blacksmith and the painter. I did not know they had spirit-bonds, I did not know, I-”

The Fire breathed a huff of amusement, and heat crashed over the elder. A faint heat, like of a summer breeze, yet with the smell of ash and burnt hair. “Ignorance is a flimsy excuse, elder,” it said drily, voice like a crackling fire.

“My sincerest apologies,” the elder muttered, whisper-quiet. “I will never bother them again. I will stay out of their lives, the Lilac Skies sect will never-”

He stopped when the storm crackled. Thunder rumbled quietly, never leaving that isolated quiet of the world. “You will pay,” it demanded.

“No, please, I will do anything! Don’t kill me! I-”

There was a brief flash of lightning, smashing into the table next to him, latching onto the mercury that covered the ground, and coursing back to the storm. A warning not to speak out of turn? “No death,” the Storm crackled, but its voice was sinister. “Payment.”

The elder’s eyes widened. A… a way out! Instantly, he understood the lifeline, and reached for it with all his might. “Y-yes! Of course, honoured spirits. I will show you the sect archives, I- I-... if you give me a day, I can let you into the treasury, too! I do not have the key for it, I-”

“Archives,” the fire snarled. “Your techniques will do. Your knowledge, as ours.”

Instantly, Bo Dan noted. The sect’s knowledge was a cheap price to pay for his own life. He might be punished, lashed even, but he would not die for this. He could make this trade. The metal hold on his hand faded, but he did not attempt to escape. Dutifully, the elder did as he was told.

He did not want to die, and so, he preserved his life. He paid. He led the spirits to the archive, and Storm and Flame took copies of everything. Not the deepest secrets, the ones only open to the sect master, but everything else. Copies of unique cultivation manuals, rubbings of ancient scriptures found in long-dead monks’ inheritances, beastiaries, herbalism books, and so much more.

The sect held much knowledge, and they took all of it. It was not a theft - there were copies of everything. It wasn’t irreplaceable, for their inner archives were still locked, but it was a heavy price to pay. Scriptures not even core disciples would ever all see, knowledge so easily claimed by Storm and Flame.

Some resistance was expected from the deacons in the library, but with the elder’s words, that quickly disappeared. And so, Bo Dan found himself alive. Standing in the middle of a looted archive, more copying work to be done, preparations for lending unmade. But it could all be restored, and he lived.

“You have paid,” Storm crackled. Its electricity still grounded itself in the quiet metal, the thundercracks reaching the elder’s ear and no one else. “Your debt is cleared. Ensure you do not make new ones. Trade, if you wish, but trade fairly. Do not cross our bottom line again, for our mercy is fickle, elder.”

“Yes, honoured spirit. This one is grateful for your mercy and wisdom,” he said, bowing at the waist. “We will not cause your bonds trouble again.”

With another crackle of amusement, heat washed over him. Bo Dan closed his eyes as they dried out, the incandescence easily passing through his barrier, but otherwise harmless. When he opened his eyes again… they were gone. The masks, the Fire, the Storm… withdrawn like a cool summer breeze, leaving the elder there.

It was a mountain of work. A setback.

But he lived. He cultivated.

A deep breath came, and relief flooded his body. Even if he had to copy manuals for a year, Bo Dan cherished this moment. The mercy of spirits was rare, and their blessings rarer still. 

He would, for his own safety, ensure that in Fuchsia, no one caused the foreigners trouble. 

- - - 

Mercury appeared back in the basement of the inn, quickly taking off the mask, turning the Storm’s Raiment back into a white robe, and undoing the exaggeration of his monstrous features. Then, for a long moment, he and Zyl stared at each other.

Until they burst out laughing. 

“Hahahaha! Spirit bond?!” Mercury laughed, leaning against a wall. 

Zyl snickered in return. “Zazaza! I think he was about to have a heart attack. I’d feel almost bad, but…”

“But it was really funny,” Mercury nodded. “And we did get a whole library out of it.”

“I didn’t even use any intimidation Skills!” Zyl said with another laugh. 

Mercury wrapped a hand around his boyfriend, ruffling the dragon’s hair with a smile. “Well, me neither. He must have just been genuinely scared.”

“Aren’t elders meant to be strong?” Zyl asked.

“I think so! Hah. Maybe not this one, specifically? Think he’s their chief strategist?” Mercury asked with a grin. 

The dragon just laughed more in reply. “Zazaza! Didn’t work out so well for him, then.” He gave a long, relieved sigh, letting himself fall backwards onto the bed, arms spread wide. “I don’t usually like making people afraid, but… I do quite love stealing.”

“Now, now!” Mercury held up both his hands, stopping the dragons. “We didn’t steal anything. This was willingly given to us. At worst our crimes are blackmail and extortion.”

Zyl pouted adorably. “Those aren’t nearly as fun to endorse.”

“Ahahaha!” Mercury jumped at the dragon, pulling him into a hug. “You’re such a dummy,” he said, messing with the dragon’s hair some more, while Zyl gave undignified squawks. “Hopefully we won’t run into any more trouble with the sect.”

“Do you think they’ll try to kill us tomorrow?” Zyl asked, tilting his head with a smile.

Mercury laughed, then nodded. “Yeah, probably. Hey, Juno!” he called into the empty room, only to see a pair of eyes open on his shadow.

“Yes, Mercury?” the wolf asked quietly.

The mopaaw grinned, then pulled open his robes like a shady drug dealer, letting scrolls upon scrolls, ancient tomes, manuals, technique-crystals and so much more pour out in an avalanche, quickly filling their room. “I’ll let you peruse this as much as you want if you look out for any assassins for me tomorrow.”

“I already look out for assassins, Mercury,” Juno said, rolling her eyes. “And you would already let me look through everything.

This time, it was Mercury’s turn to pout. “Yes, you’re entirely correct. But this way, you’ll probably be less of a pain about it.”

At that, the wolf grinned, a wide smile of fangs in the darkness. “Indeed. Consider yourself safe, my liege,” she said, then sunk away before he even had time to complain. Zyl laughed at Mercury’s continued trouble with honorifics, only for the cat to pounce on him again, rubbing his scratchy beard all over the dragon’s face, to his loud complaints.

It was a calm, peaceful night. And no one, not a single party involved, would hold a grudge, right?

Chapter 273: A Successful Day

Chapter 273: A Successful Day

The noodles were delicious.

That is an absolute truth that Mercury could not and would not deny. He hummed severely at the two bowls in front of him, thinking on which was better, because they had been so different.

Both were rich and delicious, but one had mixed in bits of not-quite-lemon zest, as well as softened fruits, giving it a tangy flavour, lightening it somewhat. The other had gone a different way entirely, adding more salt and something not quite like soy, but it was hearty and more filling.

Despite that, he had to take a deep breath, and pointed at the fruity bowl. “This one’s better,” he decreed with absolute confidence. “It may not be as traditional, but it is more creative. Bold, even. And I can appreciate that.”

Zyl readily agreed with him, and while Jean and Brock preferred the simple richness, Lucky, too, picked fruitiness. Min abstained, saying he could not decide. Instantly, the other innkeep, slammed his fists on the table. “Damn you!” he cried with the fury of a thousand suns. “I will never forget this. Just you wait! I will improve my soup a thousand times over, until you are begging to study under me!”

The other innkeep, the one Mercury and co. would be staying with, simply sneered at that, crossing his arms. “You could not match me in a thousand years.”

For a little while longer, the two bickered, and Mercury leaned over to Jean, whispering. “Are they always like this?”

Blinking slightly, the bandit nodded. “People take their craft very seriously.”

Mercury could respect that, he supposed. But after about ten minutes of back and forth, he very gently rasped his knuckles on the table. “My apologies, good sirs,” he said quietly, yet still they listened. “I’d like to ask whether we could retire for the night. We have travelled far.”

Instantly, their attention landed on him, and the winning innkeep gave a bright smile. “Of course, esteemed visitor,” he said with an obvious customer-service kind of voice. “You can call me young Puos.”

Distinctly, Mercury noted that it was just soup backwards. He did not say this out loud, however, and simply nodded. “Right, young Pous. Please, would you show me to a room? Preferably one without windows - I have a habit of sleeping in.”

“Why yes, right away! Follow me, please!!”

Not long later, everyone was housed, and they’d agreed to meet the next afternoon. Mercury didn’t want to go out too early, so he’d slowly transition them to a nighttime schedule. Afternoon should still be fine though.

With a long sigh, Mercury sprawled out on the bed. He’d gotten a basement room - not the fanciest, which had bothered young Puos. But the lack of windows was more important to Mercury than having a softer bed. He simply enjoyed the feeling of the mattress for a little while.

Zyl gave him a smile, brushing a hand through his hair. “So? How would you rate your first day, love?” he asked.

“Exhausting,” Mercury said with a snicker. “People here are intense. I thought someone might get killed over the soup debate.”

“Let’s hope they’re more pleasant about other things, hm?” Zyl said. He gave a warm smile, tracing his thumb across Mercury’s cheek. “Hopefully, tomorrow we can get our bandits signed up to some work. And then, some info on where to find the Skyflame Monks.”

Smiling, Mercury took Zyl’s hand into his own, interlacing their fingers. “Yeah. Tomorrow. For now… Let’s get some rest.”

Of course, Mercury didn’t need to sleep. So his definition of rest may have been a bit skewed. Most of the night was spent manipulating his mana, practicing. Because he was one hardworking cat, after all.

[<Ice Magic> has levelled up. <Ice Magic lv. 6 -> 7>]

- - -

The next day came, and when the sun began to lower in the afternoon, there was a knock on Mercury’s door. “Esteemed cultivators,” Puos called from the other side. “Your agreed on meeting time is here.” 

His voice was gentle, but slightly shaky. He’d heard that Mercury was a ‘cultivator’, then. Which clearly changed his assessment. A soft, somewhat sad smile settled on Mercury’s face. “We’ll be right out,” he called gently, giving Zyl time to freshen up fully. The dragon had brought along a mobile herbalism bed, and was tending to the plants, so he’d want to wash off any dirt before they headed out.

And so they did. A few minutes later, they were upstairs. Jean and her bandits looked decidedly uncomfortable in the inn, while Min had apparently managed to set up a small stall nearby. Mercury knew because with <Greater Perception>, he could hear the merchant hawking his wares. 

It was busy in the inn, but Mercury bore it with a smile, walking over to the rest of his companions, sitting on a bench, and quickly pulling out his parasol to hide in its shade from the ever-angrier light of the sun. “I really need to get myself a hat,” he noted distantly, then looked at the bandits, who shuffled a little under his gaze. “So,” he started. “Jobs.”

Lucky instantly sighed, as if he were dying. His ponytail draped over the table as he dropped his face. “Dun wanna.”

Mercury looked at him and snickered. “It’s easy money. What, you didn’t like sleeping on a soft bed?”

“I did….”

“And eating good food?” Mercury asked again.

Lucky smacked the table softly. “I did, damn you.”

“So then, get a job, dummy,” Mercury snickered. Already, they ere getting odd looks - because they were an odd group. Bandits in tattered clothes, Zyl in his immaculate suit, and him, wearing a parasol inside.

“Fine,” the bandit said, though he did not sound particularly excited by the notion. 

“Did you never have a job, Lucky?” Mercury asked, tilting his head.

Bristling, the bandit pursed his lips. “What’s it to you, esteemed sir?” he said the words as if mocking, and Jean flinched a little, rapping him over the back of the head.

“Keep it together,” she snarled. “Or I’ll kill you before he does.”

Mercury raised his hands at that. “Peace, peace,” he said gently. “No harm. I vouched for you, remember? I want your lives to be on track, for you to live without hurting anyone.”

At that, both of them averted their eyes with small clicks of their tongues. Brock, meanwhile, gave a smile and a nod. “Aye.”

Just then, Min rushed inside, rapidly approaching Mercury. “Ah, esteemed sav- Mercury!” he called excitedly, moving to drape his arm around Mercury’s shoulder, who elegantly leaned out of the way. The merchant stumbled, but recovered quickly. “I have spoken of your skills to those who asked, and we have actually received a few orders! For herbs and for metalwork.”

Snickering faintly, Mercury rolled his eyes. “You sure are industrial. Alright, point the way, Min,” he said, rising from his seat and heading outside, where a small crowd was gathered.

“Is this your miracleworker, Min?!” an old lady wearing purple robes and wielding a wooden roller asked, threateningly smacking her palm with it. “He better fix up my pans well, or I’ll skin your hide.”

At that, the merchant began sweating, doing his best to project a confident smile. “Why, of course! There’ll be no trouble, I promise.”

Mercury raised an eyebrow, then sighed, and held out his hand. He received two pieces of a pan that had cracked clean down the middle, a cast-iron wok with worn wooden handles whose metal had cracked eventually. With a gentle motion, Mercury brushed the dust off the ground and sat down.

“If you get even a drop of grime onto my pans I will have you-” 

With another wave, Mercury interrupted the old lady, as his log fell down in front of him. It was clean, covered in half-baked runes from early into his career, with spots where it had rotted from the moss before he made it his home. But it was still his. “No worries, ma’am. I will be sure to take good care of your cookware. One moment,” he said kindly, then placed an arm inside the log.

A single trigger of <Itinerant> later, he was gone, leaving the witnesses gobsmacked.

Inside the dimensional space, where his Skill had carried him, there was his smithy. Little pandora. A forge that he swiftly lit, stoking the coals inside, the heat of the flame bubbling forth at his request. It licked at the metal, though it left the wood of the handles well alone. Mercury asked it to, after all, and he understood <Fire>.

It took only a minute until the iron glowed from heat, and then he pressed the two pieces together. They weren’t quite a perfect fit, having gotten dinged up. The metal was also seasoned, which he didn’t particularly want to damage. There was a point to cookware being used, after all. 

So, when things didn’t fit, he took a scrap piece of iron, requesting it to mold itself into the missing pieces, but spread at the bottom. The cooking surface would stay intact, and only the part that touched the fire would be new metal, mixed in with the rest.

Swiftly, it liquified and obeyed - though, of course, that messed with the grain of the metal. Which meant that Mercury still had to hammer and forge the thing together with his will. That, too, was finnicky, because of the shape. He didn’t want to mess up the layers, so it was a delicate application of his rijns that kept everything working.

Still, after a few minutes, he had it done. The task was finished. Another step carried him back outside of his log, where he gently pressed the wok into the woman’s hands. Her protests at his disappearance, and threats to his skin died in her throat as she held the cooking instrument. 

“It’s whole,” she said, stunned. “How? It… it shattered. The missing pieces, they-”

Mercury nodded and smiled softly. “I tried to preserve as much of the cooking surface as I could, though I made sure the thickness was suitable by adding some scraps to the bottom, integrating them properly. It shouldn’t shatter again, hopefully.”

“You kept the handles,” she said quietly. 

“Yes,” Mercury nodded. “They are in fine shape. No rot. It could use a new finish, I suppose. I do have some wax with me,” he suggested, but she shook her hand.

“My grandfather made them,” the woman explained. “I am… glad to keep them. I was afraid when you just disappeared. I see now that Min wasn’t lying about you,” she said, and her lips curled into a smile, pulling at the well-worn frown-lines in her face. 

“I was asked to repair something,” the mopaaw said. “Not replace. If you simply wanted a wok, you’d have gotten a new one. But that is not what you did,” he shook his head. “So, I repaired it.”

At that, the crowd got louder, and even as the old woman walked off with a smile after paying, more people pressed in. Zyl seemed to be experiencing a similar story, taking a look at people’s plants, or painting them, drawing quick sketches or more elaborate things.

Then, from the edge of his vision, Mercury saw movement. The guard with the long ponytail, slinking away into the afternoon shadows, as Mercury sat on the ground. He looked at her warily for a few moments, then decided to simply move on. Some monitoring was expected when they were cultivators in a new city, after all. 

Instead, he simply did his job.

- - -

A few hours later, he’d earned a bit of spending money, and rose from his seat. “Now, now,” he said. “This will be it for tonight. We might be back tomorrow, so meet us then, perhaps.” He turned to Min. “If you’d be so kind, I’d like to see about finding somewhere for our companions, now.”

Instantly, the merchant nodded. “Of course, esteemed cultivator!” he said excitedly. “Everyone, clear out! We’re closed for the night!”

He didn’t even budge at their groans, and began to shoo the people around them away until they disappeared. One by one, they all cleared out, carrying their prizes with them, as well as the pieces they didn’t get to get repaired. Some dropped them off and cash quickly swapped hands, but overall, it was a swift affair.

Just five minutes later, Mercury was walking through the streets with the bandits in tow, Zyl still by his side. The sun had almost set, casting long shadows, its light dimming against the horizon, and Mercury’s skin was beginning to feel less strained by it all. Which was rather nice.

“Do you know any construction agencies, Min?” he asked.

“Of course, esteemed cultivator!” he said swiftly. “There are several in Fuchsia City, but I believe the Ordenson’s company might suit you best. They-”

Mercury cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I trust your judgment on this, Min. Lead us there,” he said with a calm voice. In fact, despite what he said, he was already browsing the stands to the sides. The city seemed to come alive in the evening as well as it did in the morning, the bustle never stopping.

Fuchsia City wasn’t a huge place, and yet, it was full of life. Stands stacked next to each other, selling fruits and hats and masks. It was pretty, even if a little noisy. Mercury allowed himself to soak it in, to browse the stands of woven baskets and reed hats, to take long looks at the fruit, and to watch the people.

Laughing, yelling, drinking, pushing. There were stands selling wine of all kinds, tiny food stores with people who’d been working them for forever. It was a lively place, with kids running around and playing, parents yelling at their teenagers to put more effort into the work if they wanted to take over the family business, and more silliness.

And then, Mercury stopped.

“Ah, a mask?” Min asked curiously, instantly darting over to Mercury, glancing over his shoulder. “Always a wise choice, ser. Cultivators may need to hide their faces. Of course, these are not resistant against another’s magical senses, so some obscurement technique will still be necessary-”

“That’s alright,” Mercury said calmly. He’d spotted masks he rather liked. Simple ones, teardrop shaped, that covered the whole face. They carried minor enchantments that allowed them to stick to the faces of their users, which was nice, and made them more comfortable.

He looked over the runes, the magic woven into them, and the woman peddling at the stall gave him a knowing smile. “Ah, a cultivator,” she croaked. One of her eyes was covered in a scar, and the other one was a piercing blue, staring him down. Her voice was too raspy for her raven hair.

“So what if I am?” Mercury asked with a smile, tilting his head. 

“Why, it means you can appreciate good craftsmanship!” the woman cackled. “Here, try one on. Pick whichever suits you. I painted them myself.”

“Nice brushwork,” Zyl complimented, tracing the paint of one of the masks. It was simple in coloration, black paint on pale wood, but it was nice. The edges were light since the paint soaked into the grain, but the motifs were still clear. Branches of trees and leaves, or swirling patterns of water. 

Mercury gently picked one that had only half of it painted. The wood was almost silvery, and black lines reached along one edge like grasping fingers, reaching around the eyehold as if holding it closed. “This one,” he said. 

“And that,” Zyl added, picking one for himself, with a motif of flames vividly reaching to consume the mask.

The woman smiled at that. “For you, dear sirs? Simply a pale.”

“What?!” Min demanded noisily. “That is an outrageous price for masks. You are a fraud and a scammer. You should be ashamed, if I were your father I-”

“Done,” Mercury said, placing the coin down on her table with a soft clack. He and Zyl took their masks as the woman smiled with half her teeth and gave them a soft bow. 

“Thank you for your patronage,” she said quietly. 

Mercury nodded, put the mask aside, then turned. “Thank you as well,” he said, then continued walking. Stuttering and sputtering, Min moved to catch up, sweating faintly. He turned once more, to see the woman’s single good eye lingering on him, but when she cackled and blew him a kiss, he turned away again, flustered.

“Why did you pay such an outrageous price?!” he asked.

Zyl simply smiled, still looking at the piece of wood, his fingers tracing the flames. “Good craftsmanship deserves fair pay,” he said gently. “And this is good. The paint is handmade. It is also the finish for the wood.”

“There’s a second protective layer, Mercury added. “The paint, after all, is also an enchantment. It hides runes carved into the wood itself, but even then, within the art, there are more enchantments hidden. I’ve never quite seen something like it.” He said softly, staring at the art.

That silenced Min, and he swallowed heavily, looking behind him again. But the woman, and her stall, were gone. He sweated. “I- I see,” he said quietly.

Mercury smiled, and clapped the merchant on the back. “Do not worry, friend Min. The woman won’t make you any trouble.”

“Though we might have saved you again,” Zyl noted. Min swallowed at the debt he owed yet again, but when he looked at the man’s face, all he saw was mischief glinting in those fiery eyes. They were making fun of him.

Min grit his teeth for a moment, then forced himself to sigh and let the tension grow. “There truly are experts everywhere,” he said quietly. 

“There are,” Mercury said happily. “How wonderful.”

- - -

Only one more encounter of a similar kind followed when Mercury bought himself a hat. It was a hand-woven straw hat, with a veil sewn into it. A long, silvery piece of fabric that spilled across his shoulders, reaching down to the middle of his chest when he wore it, reaching all the way around the hat.

It made him look even more mysterious than he already did, with his swirling robe of almost cloud-like materials, and the hanging parasol. Mercury looked every bit like a mysterious stranger. He kept wearing it all until they reached the company. Ordenson’s, Min had called it.

Mercury gently knocked at the door, then pushed it open a few seconds later, entering into… a dingy bar?

There was a man with a jackal’s head standing behind a counter, polishing glasses, smoking a cigar. He turned to face the newcomer, and scoffed. “Who’re you s’posed to be, pal?” he asked, staring at Mercury’s veil. “Fancy pants mcgee over here, eh?”

Looking at the dingy place, Mercury decided there was not much need to keep the veil. The tin bits of sunlight that drifted in through the thick windows were choked by the shadows in this place, so he quickly stored his hat and the parasol in his Raiment. Then, he smiled softly.

“I’m Mercury. Recently, I’ve made friends with some bandits who are… looking to change careers. They can manipulate stone,” he explained.

The bartender sneered. “We don’t take nae bandits ‘ere. If they’ve got bounties you can take ‘em somewhere else.” The rest of the patrons turned and stared, most of them humans, though many with some animalistic features. A pair of cat ears here, a tail there. Misfits, Mercury noted.

“Bounty’s paid off,” Mercury explained calmly, stepping into the dim room. Jean had to duck slightly to not hit her head on the doorframe, and the bartender actually eyed her with some surprise. Brock got similarly approving looks, though Lucky seemed less popular, given his scrawny frame.

The jackal tilted his head with curiosity. “What’s our guarantee here? We don’t do no business that’s unsafe.”

“Safety first!” the rest of the bar toasted to an uproarious laugh, toasting their drinks.

Jean swallowed drily, stepping forward to do something stupid. Instead, Mercury stepped up, and placed every coin he’d earned that day on the counter. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was a sizable sum. A couple pales, and a chunk of glooms and nights. “That,” he said calmly. “If they ruin something, I’ll fix it. If they fuck up, keep the cash. If you want gold, I can get that too.”

At that, the bartender turned serious, the mirth from his little joke washed away. “Ye’re serious about this,” he said, taking a puff of his cigar. 

“Very,” Mercury nodded.

“Why?”

“People deserve second chances,” he said simply. “We get dealt shit lots. So we should get dealt lucky turns, too. I try to be a lucky turn.”

Once more, the jackal looked him up and down, staring at Mercury as if trying to scare him off. Then, his lips twisted into a grin. It looked scary, almost predatory, in the same way it did when Mercury smiled. But he could see it was genuine. “A’ight. We’re taking ‘em. Boys, girls, you got newbies on the job tomorrow. Show ‘em the ropes. You!” he turned to the ex-bandits, jabbing the cigar at them. “Be here tomorrow at sunrise! No later.”

Then, with a swift motion, he pushed the coin back at Mercury. “Keep it,” the Jackal hissed. “Pay us if there’s a fuckup, not beforehand. They get to prove themselves like anyone else. By workin’. Safety first!” 

“Safety first!!” the bar cheered.

- - -

“That went remarkably well,” Zyl noted when they were back outside. It was a bit darker now, since Jean and the rest had taken a while to get used to the crews they’d be joining tomorrow. There was some ice to break, but things had gone surprisingly well afterwards.

“Yeah, I was expecting to get shot at least once,” Mercury noted. The whole place had that kinda mafia-feel to it. But then, they’d been remarkably nice about it. Honor among gangsters, or something?

Lucky took the longest to get them to warm up to him, but by the end, even he fit in like a glove. “Still can’t believe I’ll get a tattoo tomorrow,” he said, snickering, almost giddy at the idea. His good humor had won over the rest of the crew, and by the end they were smacking his back hard enough to knock the air out.

Min smiled thinly at it. He still remembered getting stabbed by the man, but despite that, the merchant seemed to have mostly forgiven them. That had a way of happening when one shared meals and travelled together.

Food had a habit of breaking up trouble like that. Honesty forged bonds. And, despite everything, Lucky had been mostly honest. Secretive and quiet about his past, but honest. And that was enough. Mercury smiled, then pressed two pales into the merchant’s hand. Min stared at the sum, then at the mopaaw. 

“There’s-”

“You did good work, just take the dang money,” Mercury said.

“Yessir!” Min instantly agreed, pocketing the coins with shining eyes. It was unfortunate that his saviours had already seen through him, but then, he was a transparent man. He wanted money. Money to build himself up, to earn respect without needing to get his hands bloody.

In that way, this newest event had been a windfall for him. He’d gotten his life saved, and was now handed easy opportunities to make more money and gather some renown, simply by virtue of who he travelled with. He slept in good inns for low prices, he ate well, and with these people around, no one would try to dunk his head into his food.

Indeed, meeting his saviours had been a lucky turn for him. Maybe he should consider getting stabbed more often!

Saviour Zyl poked him in the side, and gently shook his head as Min winced from the pain that spread.

Perhaps… perhaps he shouldn’t get stabbed more often.

- - -

Pleased with himself, Mercury was looking forward to a calm day at the inn. The day had gone well. He’d solved some small problems, some bigger problems, he’d met some fun people, he had new enchantments to study, and he had a soft bed to look forward to. His new hat was comfortable, and the veil looked fucking awesome, if he was honest.

He was in genuinely, really rather good spirits. He smiled as he sat down at the inn, he smiled as the food was placed down on the table before him, and he smiled as he broke apart the pair of chopsticks and prepared to dig in.

Then, someone slammed a fist down on his table so hard that the wood cracked and his bowl jumped. “Innkeep!” a man roared. He was young, handsome in a pampered way, with fair skin and clean shaven, wearing lilac robes with ocean-blue trim. His dark hair was neatly tied back into a top-knot, and his undershirt was pristine. Piercing black eyes tore into Jean, Lucky and Brock. “You expect me to eat in the same place as this filth?!”

“Calm down, friend,” Mercury said gently, calmly. “We’re not looking for any trouble.”

“Not looking for trouble?” the young master sneered. Then, he grabbed one of the soup bowls, Lucky’s, and poured it over the balding man’s head. The noodles splattered to the floor, the broth soaking the man’s clothes, the table, the bench, and the floor. “Then how dare this filth breathe the same air as me. Kowtow to me thrice and clean this meal off the ground and I’ll forgive you!” he said, grinning smugly.

Min sunk into himself. Zyl sat calmly, clenching his fists. Lucky stared down at himself in shock. Jean flinched backwards from the scion, and Brock stared with furrowed brows.

And Mercury? Mercury fucking boiled.

Epilogue 3: To Save All Worlds

Ten years have passed since the death of Legacy.

It’s today. The day I’m writing all of this down.

My name is Fiona Bellum. You all know me as Fio. And I’ve come here to tell you about the effort it was to move beyond Eden and properly make this whole multiverse a better place. 

Despite everything, the fight isn’t over. It never has been over, and I doubt it ever will be, and I’m okay with that. There is always something to improve, small-scale and large. 

The keepers are bastards. They are all selfish, power-hungry idiots, but they also follow rules. Structure. They are easy to work with because they are creatures of regulations, and so, I have not had to execute any more of them beyond the four that sought to steal my gateway.

These days, however, my gateway has grown stronger. Much, much stronger. I’ve eaten through multiple worlds’ worth of portals. And that is the truth of the saving of the worlds. With a few deals with the keepers, we staged a counter-offensive.

Eight of us fought in this, the eternal battles still ongoing. Myself, and all my copies. Ann, my brilliant girlfriend, and the greatest mage this universe has ever seen. Matt, the most talented swordsman in existence. Liam, whose shadow loomed so large it could swallow worlds. Emilia, breaker of mountains and reshaper of continents. Marie, whose sight enveloped planets, and whose arrows could strike anywhere she saw. Reya, the first divinity of Neamhan, the saintess of healing. And Chris, triz-adu, wearer of different shells, the ultimate multi-element user.

My [Transference] had grown enormously. The network spanned thousands of capable individuals, lending us their talents, their skills, their growth. And the gateways I’d absorbed had made my mirror abilities grow even now. 

These days my gateway is a towering thing, a massive source of power roaring with the ability to link worlds, find new ones, and duplicate thousands of people across the cosmos. The eight of us piloted bodies across multiple worlds.

In one body, I am living a simple life on Neamhan. I work in environmental conservation. I plant trees and rehabilitate animals for a living. I am a sister to Beth and Ivan, I am a friend to my friends, and I am a pseudo-mom to Cass. But that is not all I am.

Because, despite everything, I am still a fighter. There is no one, no person or creature in the universe, who deserves to be oppressed. So someone has to fight for change, against the endless stagnation that has set in across so many worlds. Against the usurper’s song of conquering. 

And that’s what we do. Across hundreds of bodies, our minds split and controlling them with the help of a lot of practice and consistent improvements to our skills, we fight. We battle. We war.

We win.

There is no doubt about that last part. We win. The usurpers are strong. They always have been. They have hundreds of divines among their ranks. They have world-conquerors who’ve laid low dozens of planets. Their songs are so loud they could drown out stars. 

Yet still, we win. My gateway burns with power as an incarnation of mine arrives on a new world. Another body, another me, on a world that has been infested with Echo. I step through a mirror, the glass rippling across my face, and arrive on fetid grass.

It is a rotten world, brown and deep red, with air that tastes of iron. It would have once been vibrant, but now, it has been consumed by the bloodsong. The rippling spread of fear that the usurpers seed wherever they go. The parasitic infections that siphons life from a planet to feed themselves.

I breathe in. I breathe out. And I unleash my Qi, first.

Within my chest, there is no longer a maelstrom. I advanced. I stepped forward, further, stronger, free-er. And now, what burns in my chest is a thing of gold and glass that shines as brightly as the sun.

After maelstrom came downpour. An internal realm where Qi was so thick, it fell like rain. My maelstrom filled the sky with golden clouds, and golden rain constantly fed it. I could project it out of my body like a tide, and it would suppress all other types of power.

My maelstrom had let me consume the Qi around me. My downpour let me cleanse the world of anything that wasn’t golden glass, making it even easier to consume. 

The rain washes away the sinister song. It is a domain so vast, it spans an entire continent. It's a little like Ru’s field of blood was, except that I do not use blood at all. Instead, golden rain falls on the land, and the browns and reds wash away, the song sloughing into the dirt, and being consumed by the violent tide of Qi that poured out.

Everything is dragged into my core, reprocessed, and absorbed. Energy pours into me, and I breathe.

After downpour there comes abyss.

That is the realm I’m currently at. The seventh, and final, realm of cultivation. The abyss. Deep, unending. A delve into the very nature of an aspect, where you find the truth of who you are, of what you are, of what your path is.

I’ve not reached the bottom of the abyss. I never will. There is no step beyond it, because it contains infinite growth.

The golden rain burns bright. Each drop of it contains enough Qi to wipe out mountains, to flatten entire cities. Each raindrop is filled with the abyss, like a little world in and of itself. It consumes and strips this land of its curse.

A usurper appears before me. It wears the crown of a world-conqueror. Of someone who brutally beat a planet into submission. I turn my eyes on it, and it shivers. Astraeus hums in my hand, and I smile thinly, pointing the spear at the usurper. The Herald of the Golden Tide, now flowing across this land in ripples.

“You’ve heard of me,” I say. There is no doubt in my voice. The usurpers know, by now. They know who I am. What I do. And that is why they must speak with me.

“Yes,” they admit. A thing woven from grass and vines. Its song choking on its tongue as the world it infected is being cleaned of its influence. “I would… negotiate.”

The thin smile spreads on my lips, and I lower my spear. That’s what I thought, and it’s the most annoying part of reclaiming these worlds. Negotiation. Just slaughtering everyone in our path is not exactly a viable strategy for making sure that worlds turn out healthy. So, to minimize the damage, we talk.

“Good,” I say. “Do you have seed banks? Any kind of storage of the things that lived here before you corrupted them? Which worlds did you draw your usurpers from?”

In front of me, the wine-woven usurper pulls out a notebook and a pair of glasses, placing them on a face that distinctly lacks eyes. Still, it flips it open with a small sigh. And begins to read it to me. “No seed banks,” it says, “but records of the original energy distribution before consumption, as well as logs of habitats, and I prepared a detailed breakdown of where the invading usurpers came from. You’ve reclaimed some of those worlds, though, so you may need to trace them back from there.”

The words come out bitterly but professionally, and I almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. As its power is being carved away, they do what they always do. Try to maintain whatever scraps they hold onto. They know they’ve lost, so they must negotiate. They prepare the best data they can.

We don’t plan to kill all usurpers, or “reclaim” all words. At the end of the day, the usurpers, and the various species they employ, have a right to live as well. So there is a delicate effort in it - to cleanse the world of the infectious Echo and yet thread that energy into their baseline. To try and reintroduce species that were outcompeted in order to bring back a reasonable balance and ecological network. 

I sieve through the notes presented to me, humming faintly and passing them on to Cass, who quickly passes them through the other channels of [Transference], giving a couple orders to locals from other worlds to arrange gateway networks - all connected and powered by my central node.

“Alright, this is good documentation. Solid work,” I say, nodding in approval. “Which world would you like to be relocated to? Do you wish to switch cultivation tracks? I can give you a cleanse, or simply put you on a world that allows infectious Echo.” 

And yes, those do exist. A few more barren worlds, where restoration was impossible, as well as previously uninhabited ones were seeded for it. For the usurpers who refused to give up their ‘eternal war’, who need the bloodshed. We simply quarantine them in places where they harm no one but each other, allow anyone who wishes to stop off the planet, and carry on.

In front of me, the vine-thing nods. “A cleanse, please. Could you provide me with a selection of nature-aligned techniques across the spectrum? I want to create a song of growth, if I can, but I don’t want to solely be a resonator.”

Nodding slightly, I thread through my mental library, then grab a few notes. Marie and Ann worked extensively to document, reproduce and spread paths that are easily walkable and possible to adjust to the individual, especially in terms of nature-aligned power.

“This might sting a bit,” I say, though I doubt it will be bad.

A raindrop hits their forehead, and the abyss within me thrums hungrily. The drop of gold expands, and a thousand atom-thin needles pierce the usurper. They let out a small gasp, but their pain, too, is swallowed by the golden tide. There is nothing that can exist in the abyss without my permission.

Their Echo disappears. Their song is subsumed, washed away. Their resonance quiets, then dies down to nothing, as the noise grown by conquering and death is snuffed out like a faint fire in a rainstorm.

Then, I pass them a few books and notes. “Any wishes for world destination?”

“Neamhan,” they say quietly.

I eye them up and down, then nod slowly. “Alright. Neamhan, then. Do good w-”

“You!!” someone interrupts, just as I was about to teleport the vine-thing.

A new usurper, brimming with horrid power. Cloaked in fire and brimstone and horrid hatred, it flies at me like a comet. Sixth realm of resonance, a medium divinity, with the power to wipe out a continent or two at full power. Hurtling at someone whose powers I just consumed, breaking them down to mundaneity.

Softly, I sigh, then flip Astraeus around, and smack the god on the head with the shaft of my spear.

He crashes into the ground, but there’s no crater. He slams down on a sheet of golden glass, manifested by me, and the shockwaves are consumed by the abyss. Otherwise, the planet might have fractured.

“Yes?” I ask, exasperatedly.

With hatred and a line of blood dripping down from his forehead, the warrior-usurper glares at me. He’s a god, and a wrathful one at that. “You disgusting witch. How dare you strip our power from us!? I’ll tear you limb from fucking limb and feed you to the hounds. I will-”

Once more, I sigh, pinching my brows and shaking my head. “Sorry, this’ll only take a second,” I tell the vine-creature, who nods slowly. With a good bit of fear in the mix. Which is unfortunate, but, well, it happens. I turn back at the war-divinity. “You want to go on a colosseum planet?” I ask, very politely.

“I would rather fucking die than be touched by you!” it roars, getting up and blasting tides of black flames at me, which I parry with a few spins of Astraeus and a couple raindrops. 

“Are you… sure about that?” I ask, tilting my head lazily.

“Kill me if you must,” he says through gritted teeth, and I shake my head at the antics, whacking him again, causing yet another minor shockwave as he crashes into the ground at about 20 times the speed of sound.

I look at him, then poke him with the blunt end of my spear. “Hey, do you want to reevaluate this? I can just break your path, and you’ll keep living. If this is some elaborate suicide attempt, then I’m against it, but I can’t leave you in a place where you’ll hurt people, you know?”

“Then kill me. Stain your hands in more blood,” he spits.

“Right, okay, so here’s what’s gonna happen. I’ll wash away your path, first, since that’s the least destructive. Layer by layer.” The golden glass touches his skin, and I wash aside the sixth realm of resonance, reducing him from a god down to someone at the equivalent of mid-maelstrom. “Would you like to re-evaluate?” I ask, politely.

He still threatens to kill me and throws curses my way. So I strip another layer of resonance. And then a third. And a fourth.

By then, he’s reduced to the second major realm, and the madness of a war-path is mostly washed away. He looked at me, eyes wide. “Oh,” he says. Then he looks at his hand. “Oh no.”

“Yeah, it’s like that sometimes. Have you reconsidered?” I ask, politely.

He swallows drily, blood caking on his forehead. “Y-yes,” he stammers. “I’d like to… pursue a different element, maybe.”

With a nod, I wash away the rest of his path, returning him to zero. Mundaneity. He ages, a little, but that’s fine. A common consequence. Less bad than losing a life. He’ll be able to rebuild, and perhaps, atone for the blood he spilled. But, before that, I turn to viney.

“So, Neamhan?” I ask again, with a faint smile, and when it nods, I reach out, and transport it. Now it’s someone else’s business.

A few more minutes, and I’ve sorted through the once-god as well. Their powers are being consumed in my abyss, and after a few minutes, they’re simply tiny building blocks, adding to my cultivation base.

I breathe in, then out, refreshing myself with a touch of Mana and Divinity - more paths that I’ve slowly begun to explore since I’ve had more time. And then, I take a step, teleporting to another continent, to continue the downpour. Astraeus hums in my hands, snickering at the ease of the fight as golden rain pours down across us.

Saving the world takes… about twenty minutes. Reallocating resources, dealing with the people and where they need to go, and beginning the restoration projects for biodiversity takes much, much longer. But I put my degree to good use, and after about a month, everything is mostly sorted with this world, and I dismiss the avatar.

There are a thousand more versions of me doing the same thing on different planets, in different worlds. And even more versions of me spreading through the other realities, parallel ones that glow brightly. 

On Neamhan, I let out a soft sigh, reactivating my powers, splitting off into another avatar for yet another planet.

All across the universe, golden rain falls. So do pink flower petals and harmless rainbow fires. They don’t break or shatter things anymore. They change, they heal, they move. 

There are infinite worlds out there. An amount greater than I can ever count. But, well, it’s not like I’m running out of time or interest, so…

With all the power I’ve claimed, breaking a few more cages is the least I can do.

So, that’s me. Fio. I am someone who works on rewilding Neamhan. I have a master’s in Ecology. I am also a multi-bodies world-traveller at the absolute peak of strength across the universe, who can kill gods with a flick of her wrist. I am a pacifist, to the best of my ability. I loathe bureaucracy and still engage with it, I am obsessed with freedom and fairness, and I care deeply about those I’m familiar with.

I am the originator of the [Transference] network that spans a million worlds. I hold the Herald of the Golden Tide. I like watching romcoms, I like reading yuri and kissing my lovely wife, my favourite ice cream flavour is cherry, and I’ve recently become a vegetarian.

The universe is big, and there is much to do. But I am a person, I have time and effort to give, so I do my best. To make things better. To help people become better versions of themselves. To be kind to others, and to be kind to myself.

Because that’s what it means to save a world.

- - - - - -

A/N: That's it. The end of Tenets. The last chapter.

Thank you all so much for reading my story. For giving me your time, your attention, and your support. I truly appreciate you all. This book has been a journey! It's followed me for 2 and a half years, and I am incredibly proud of it.

Yes, it has rough edges, and things I could have done better, but I am happy with it. I hope you loved Fio and the gang as much as I did, and that you enjoyed their adventures.

Again, thank you all for reading, and for helping me make this story a reality. You all are awesome. Be kind to yourselves.

PS: full book pdf included for download - will vanish if i at some point go to KU lol

Epilogue 2: Found Family

Six years had passed since the death of Legacy. 

The world was healing, and so were we. All of us agreed to keep a house together. It made regular board-game nights a lot easier. And Beth loved it when she visited. Plus, whenever someone’s family caused trouble or infringed on our hospitality too much, it was easy to crack down on that.

Not that it happened too often. People knew to behave these days. We were pretty clear on our boundaries, and there was a wonderful independence that came from having enough money to have all our worries covered.

We weren’t uber-rich. There was no point in holding onto that much cash, but we could all live comfortably for the rest of our lives, probably. Plus, it wasn’t hard to make more at this level of power. Frankly, these days, I didn’t really need to eat or sleep anymore? It was a strange feeling, to see those needs disappearing.

Of course, we still all did it, just to remain human. We cooked, we ate, we played, we slept. We all even got jobs! Normal, every day jobs.

“How’s the thesis going, love?” Ann asked, peeking over my shoulder at the laptop.

“Meh,” I said, clicking my tongue. “I hate theses. They suck.”

She laughed a little, then ruffled my hair. “They sure do. The worst, huh? All about proving what you know, rather than putting it to use. What a shame,” she said. There was a smile on her face throughout. She’d put my thoughts into words, but I still rolled my eyes at her.

“Yeah. They suck,” I replied. 

By now, I was writing my master’s in “Ecology and Environmental Protections”. I still had my bachelor’s in dietology, but wasn’t using it much these days. Instead, I was putting my conservation knowledge to good use while working with Foundational Exchange. 

In fact, the topic of my master’s was “the reintroduction of magical plants into polluted ecosystems and their knock-on effects”, which had involved three solid years of monitoring for seasonal changes. My bachelor’s had been planning and putting the first steps of it into practice, and now my results should net me another title.

Was I gonna get a PhD? Absolutely not. Maybe an honorable one, but I had most certainly had my fill of academia. There was nothing freeing about being in a stuffy room full of old people and explaining to them what my job out there was. They knew their stuff, and I learnt a lot about the science of it, but at the same time, they didn’t have my intuition for Qi or Echo or any other type of magic.

Amusingly, Ingrid was one of the people who’d most closely worked with me on this. Rae had retired from all the fighting again, and his wife, who had somehow maintained a garden when the air quality was entirely horrendous, was rather skilled at helping me with reforestation work.

Of course, we’d fed her a few elixirs and natural treasures from Eden to make it easier on her old bones, and she now cultivated a bit of nature-Qi and a touch of magic. Which was rather funny, since she occasionally didn’t know her own strength these days.

It was a nice life. Getting to see my master, who I now called “gramps” more often than not, so frequently. Working in the field with my brother and my girlfriend and my pseudo-grandma. Feeling like I was doing something for this planet. It was good.

Then, the door to my room flew open. “Yoyo!” Matt called excitedly, his hair dishevelled, wearing an oversized rabbit-print shirt. “Come on! My new episode’s airing!” he said, full of excitement.

I snickered slightly, and took Ann’s offered hand, pulling myself out of bed in my pajama pants. “Right now?” I asked Matt, making my voice languid on purpose.

“Yes, now, sleepyhead!” he called, full of excitement, then quickly grabbed my shoulder, and the world spun. We appeared downstairs with the scent of plum blossoms, and I gave a faint snicker.

“Rat. You’re teleporting us to the dang couch?” I asked with a harmless smile.

Matt gave me an unrepentant grin. “And I’ll heccing do it again,” he said. “Now let me fetch the others.” Then he vanished in a puff of petals.

With a laugh, I sat down on the couch, and Cass quickly appeared behind me, sitting on the armrest, leaning her head against my shoulder. “What’re we up to, Bell?” she asked, innocently, even though she knew very well.

Ann reached down gingerly, and patted her head. Cass had changed, these days. Her body was far more realised, and far more human. She was still cast in monochrome, but she had eyes, a nose, lips, and was fully articulated. Glassy hair pooled down her head into a simple braided ponytail at the back of her neck, and she gave Ann a radiant smile.

“Matt’s newest show is airing,” she explained cheerily. 

Cass had been basically adopted as something in between a sister and a kid to me. She was as much part of the family as Ann was. She’d also grown taller, now looking like she was in her early teens, though she hadn’t yet hit her rebellious phase. Which, knowing that she was a little like me… well, I suspected she’d want a lot of freedom - which I’d happily grant her.

The Rat bastard had, somehow, become an actor. In minor tv shows. Mostly as an extra or episodically visiting character. He also only took roles when he felt like it, but this was a show he’d had a hand in producing as well, so he was excited to show us. He even choreographed the fight scenes - I knew, because I’d helped him demonstrate. As rusty as I was with a sword, I was still far better with it than almost anyone else on Neamhan, given my ridiculous amount of talent these days.

A moment later, with the sound of a faint breeze and the smell of plum blossoms, Matt dragged in Liam, Reya and Marie. Emilia took a while longer, since she first had to come in through the front door and dust off her hands as well as toss aside her high-vis vest.

She’d picked up a job in construction. With her earth-Qi she could throw up fully completed houses in minutes. She’d even picked up a minor amount of metal Qi with a few tips from me, and could now create the equivalent of concrete-rebar from scratch with little to no effort.

Which made her critical for expansion and maintenance of infrastructure. She’d torn down and rebuilt entire houses in minutes, replacing dilapidated, run down walls with brand-new ones in an instant. Still, as she came home, she smiled.

“Oh? Movie eve?” she asked, and when Matt gave her an excited nod, she spread her arms wide. “Alright. Ann, blast me.”

“Phrasing,” my girlfriend distantly noted with some amusement, then cast a spell. An instant later, half a tsunami washed over Emilia, and then a miniature sun spawned, drying her off in moments. It took all of three seconds for the grime of the entire day to be washed away, and for her to plop down on the couch, pristinely clean. “So, what are we-”

“Shh! It’s starting,” Matt called excitedly.

And then the show came on. It was an oldschool type drama-action flick, with a good bit of modern tech and a good bit of actual magic being used to make the fights look real. 

“Did they add CG-petals in with your actual ones, Rabbit?” I asked him quietly.

He snickered, then nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “They thought my storm was too calm. There were going more for a raging-typhoon kinda deal, and if I actually went that far, I might’ve hurt someone.”

I laughed at that, then we kept watching. It was fun. The show was exaggerated, but in a funny way, and it was clear that Matt had enjoyed working on it. It had his humor all over it. In the banter, in the shenanigans, in the fighting. It was fun, and it was something he was proud of.

So, we watched it all the way through, and when the episode was done, we all had a little celebration. Marie had even made him a cake. Matt cried a little, which made all of us laugh. It was a good day.

- - -

“A little shorter than that,” I told Liam, showing him a picture of what I wanted.

He smiled as he draped the towel over me, clipping it shut at the back of my neck. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “Any special wishes?” 

“Can you braid the side? And make sure I got long enough bangs to do the fun parting, please?” I asked.

“Of course, Fio,” He said, grabbing a spray bottle and gently wetting my hair as he manifested scissors from liquid darkness. Mundane metal did not cut nearly as well as what he could create himself these days, and the combs he made were so fine and flexible it was rather amazing.

Seeing his hairdresser shop was funny though. He did keep a bunch of mundane materials around - mostly for decoration. All the utensils he used were made from shadow, and he maintained ones that he manifested for anyone else working there, too. He’d opened the little shop himself with the money we got from saving the world, and he’d thrown himself into it.

Of course, there had been some pushback from his family, but well, they couldn’t do anything about it. He didn’t want to be a chef, not anymore, and had since transitioned to this new career and taken to it like a fish to water.

All his skill with knives easily carried over to scissors, and there was a lot one could do with superhuman senses and the ability to manifest additional limbs when needed.

With swift, deft motions, he cut my hair - the fibres were too tough for normal scissors to sever these days if I didn’t withdraw my Qi, but Liam sheared through them effortlessly. He’d condensed edges so sharp on the scissors that they’d probably stab right through a piece of steel without resistance if he dropped them.

Of course, he didn’t do so. Instead, he simply took care of my hair, cutting it to length where it had gotten too long, and making sure it was well maintained with a smile on his face. The shop around us was alight with the small talk people usually made with hairdressers. Talking about their kids, about work, about the world and the weather.

“You were telling me about the book you’ve been reading,” Liam noted calmly. His voice had gotten a little deeper since he took more testosterone, and had taken on a comfortable baritone.

“I was!” I replied with a smile. “It’s a romance-”

He nodded sagely. “I imagined.”

“Jerk,” I laughed, and he took a moment to make sure he didn’t accidentally cut me until I sat still again. “It’s about a girl who loses a bet and has to try on outfits with another girl from her class. The ‘bully’ then falls in love with the bet-loser. And proceeds to request they go shopping more often.”

Liam snickered at my explanation. “And the girl goes along with it?”

“She does! Under threat of having her lunch money stolen.”

At that, he laughed, then shook his head. “Amazing,” he said, “tell me more.”

The minutes passed easily, and at the end, he held up a mirror for me to see myself. Of course, since I could see through the air, I already knew what I looked like. “Perfect,” I praised happily. “Thank you, Liam.”

“Any day,” he said happily.

- - - 

Reya had opened a school. It was completely free, covered from her own pockets, though Eric and Ann had pitched in and signed on as teachers - which did mean Ann had had to get a degree first, which was amusing. She’d chosen maths, which made sense to me, and history of all things. 

So, in a few years, she’d crammed the entirety of the history of Neamhan into her prodigious brain, proceeded to ace her exams, and was now teaching at the school. Eric and Reya had an easier time getting into it, though Reya specifically taught a class for deaf students, doing her lessons in sign language and working with disabled kids in regular lessons.

Marie occasionally came in to do guest lectures - though she mostly worked as a vet these days. She’d learnt a bit of healing using her nature-Qi and Mana and a tiny hint of Divinity she acquired from her belief in herself, and with it, she patched up animals like no one else.

She also worked with me sometimes, to rehabilitate wild places and conserve species by making sure they didn’t die from injuries in the wild. It was slow going - finding the few animals that still lived out there, not choked by smoke or hunting, was tough. And she did have to break some poachers’ bones a few times. But we were making progress.

And she loved the work. She loved the animals so dearly. Seeing her send pictures of “swamp puppies” into the group chat was very funny - especially when said ‘puppies’ were busy trying to chew her hand off very unsuccessfully. She was far too tough for that these days.

But somehow, some way, we’d all found our places in the world. Cass got to go to school and live a reasonably normal life. We were even working on making Astraeus a somewhat humanoid body - though the spear seemed not particularly excited at the idea of it. He was perfectly content just being a weapon, and so, that is what he remained, for now. It was an option if he ever wanted to take it.

We lived normal lives, like normal people. We went on holiday, we rested, and even the other versions of myself got to do what they wanted. We played video games, read books, watched shows, played sports, went out together, cooked, and ate.

Somehow, someway, our lives on Neamhan had become normal. A pleasant, calm kind of normal, where we got to do what we wanted to do, and become who we wanted to be.

And, of course, occasionally, we visited Eden. That world, too, was kind of our home, these days. Chris and Iryel were there to greet us each time, and the world was becoming better, too. Echo got integrated. Plants flourished. The wilds were pushed back. 

Eden was recovering. The war was won, the keepers no longer ferried usurpers over, and they’d given up on that world. We got to see Saif as she put down her war-magic and learned to make flowers blossom. See the archmages return to their own ideals, becoming hermits and healers and political figures.

We saw cities recover, people learning to feel safe again for the first time in decades. Houses being built, kids playing outside city walls, Trichtera recovering from her wounds, and Rufus becoming a wandering warrior. 

It was nice. There are no other words I have for it except… nice. After everything I’d fought for, I got to live a good life, making a difference in the world, with no worries about my existence or my death. 

No threats. No worries. Just… living, with my friends, in a place we were making better.

I loved it all.

Epilogue 1: Bloodbound Family

A year had passed since the death of Legacy. My father was out of the hospital. My mother had gone on her cruise and came back. My incarnation on Neamhan had watched Beth, and it was a nice weekend. Genuinely lovely.

Beth was stunned when I injected her with a little Qi, and she could go outside without a mask. That brought her the greatest joy of everything. Just being able to embrace the world again. 

We went hiking, went to the cinema, to a swimming pool, bringing along different uncles and aunties for her to have fun with. Cass and her became even closer over that weekend, bonding with the innocence that only kids could.

And then, my mom came back, and took Beth again. She was still together with Jared, and they seemed happy, so I even made an effort to not scare him off. He was a little clumsy, but he’d gotten more used to our family. And my mom had gotten kinder.

She only made snide, arrogant, and cruel comments about a quarter as much as before. A massive improvement, truly. I smiled at the thought, then shook my head. “Ready to head out?” I asked Ann.

“Zip me up?” she returned, her back to me, and I quickly closed up the dress she was wearing. With a quick flick of her hands, she brushed her hair back, then turned to me with a smile. “So? How do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” I said, smiling brightly and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Lilac really suits you.” And it did. Her dress was lovely. I, for my part, had settled for a rather nice blazer that hugged my sides. I didn’t feel like wearing a dress that day, so it would be fine.

She smiled, blushing faintly at the compliment, then nodded. “Yeah. Good to go, then.”

With another nod, I took her hand, and we headed to the car. We drove, quietly humming along to my playlist over the hum of air-filters. Cass sat in the backseat, her glass body wrapped in a dress, too. There was not much talking to do. A little while passed, and only about fifteen minutes later, we were at the restaurant. A sushi place.

We quickly headed in, sitting down at the table. My mom, of course, was already there, prim and proper, wearing a green dress that complimented her eyes. She gave me a smile. “Good evening, Fio,” she said.

Having her actually use my nickname still felt strange, but I smiled at the gesture. “Hey mom. Hey, lil Butterfly,” I greeted Beth, who promptly jumped into my arms, spinning around once. Then, I gently placed her down, letting her say hello to Ann and Cass, too, while I shook Jared’s hand, then took a seat.

“It’s been a bit since we got together like this, huh?” mom asked, giving me a sad smile. 

I swallowed dryly, but nodded slowly. “It has. But… it’ll be nice, I think.” And I truly hoped it would be. It was not a day I wanted to be faced with trouble. Not the kind where I could stomach it, so I just hoped, desperately, that things would be okay.

The anniversary of Jacob’s death. The car crash that had killed him happened today, so many years ago. It was a distant memory now, but I still remembered how it broke my world. Broke apart my parents, broke apart my family. How it shattered mom and dad in such different ways.

But it was in the past. So, I took a long breath, and put on a faint smile for my mom. She briefly squeezed my hand, and nodded. “It’ll go alright. Don’t worry,” she said gently. Then, when the affection lingered and almost clicked for me, she hurried to call over a waiter. 

I snickered internally, ordering a cola for myself and Cass, while Ann asked for some grapefruit juice. And then, we just chatted. About light topics, without much trouble, until, ten minutes later, Ivan and dad got here.

My brother wore a stylish suit, and had his hair gelled back. His beard was recently shaven, but just back enough to give him a bit of gray on the cheeks. He looked good. But dad looked… better.

This past year had been an improvement for him. Cultivation had done him good, and after knowing everything I’d done, he’d finally found the strength to fight. I could see it. The way the fire burned within him, the way he fought to leave his regrets behind. The way he fought to be kind to himself.

He hadn’t had the luxury of Orvan telling him that… but I had the suspicion that some other wise, old mentor figure probably told him something. A few bits of gray had snuck into his hair, but it looked good on him. He was bigger again, despite losing weight, having put on some muscle. And he no longer slouched… as much. 

I wrapped both of them in quick hugs, my brother longer than my father. “Hey broski,” I said. 

“Heya Bell. All good?” he asked, squeezing my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “All good.”

He smiled at me, then nodded, let go, and turned to my girlfriend, spreading his arms. “Ann! Always a pleasure to see you,” he said.

On and on the greetings went.

Until, eventually, we were all seated. And the waiter came again. Almost instinctively, I tensed up, glancing at my dad. But I said nothing. Not a word left my lips, my expression schooled with the cold discipline I’d earned from shedding my body weight in blood multiple times over.

He ordered a glass of cola.

The weight that fell off me felt almost physical. I breathed in, then out, then chuckled to myself. It was almost funny how afraid I was of my dad drinking beer, yet, when Marie got drunk, I wasn’t worried at all. How silly.

But as the waiter brought our drinks, dad just gave me a smile, and a cheers. “To our kids, and the world they saved,” my dad said, raising his glass. 

I blushed, already embarrassed, when Cass chimed in. “Two worlds, actually,” she diligently corrected, raising her own glass. “And working to make that number go up.”

Ivan, alongside me, almost sank into himself, wishing with all his might to disappear. But then, Jared’s laugh broke the tension, and he raised his glass as well, toasting my dad. “Yeah. To the future,” he said.

“To the future,” Ann agreed happily, giving me a proud grin, entirely unashamed of her achievements. The dang genius.

Ivan’s and my voices came much more hesitantly, but they came nonetheless, and we survived that moment of embarrassment - only to be confronted with something far worse. Stories from our childhood. Words that I shall never repeat.

The evening went on like that. Tense, but better than expected. Rough around the edges, with mom and dad being combative, Jared being tone-deaf, Beth being energetic, and Ivan and I caught in the middle. It was a pain, a real pain, but it wasn’t like glass shards. It was like being reminded of an aching scar as it healed. It was necessary.

So, we bore the embarrassment, and Ann squeezed my hands occasionally, just to support me enough. We ate together, we joked, we laughed, and eventually, Ivan and I got to mock our parents back. In fact, their closets held far more skeletons than ours.

They may blame me for having a whole second life and identity that I kept secret from them for years - all of which was perfectly true - but that was still far better than the haircut my dad sported when the two of them first got together. Now that was a real crime.

Not to mention mom’s more unsavoury art of which I shall not speak any further here, but the very mention of which seemed to almost give her a heart attack. We laughed about each others’ flaws, so intimately familiar with them, but there was no heat in it. No actual insecurities.

I didn’t mock dad for being a drunk, I didn’t mock mom for being a prissy bitch, and they didn’t mock me for being a rebellious idiot with authority problems who was lucky that she hadn’t ended up in jail. We left the taboo topics alone, and simply let the evening pass.

We remembered Jacob when the time was right, when Jared had taken Beth home, and Ann had taken Cass and it was just the four of us. The four of us who’d known him. We shared scarce memories of playing together, of when the world was still alright, before it all shattered, and we consoled ourselves that perhaps, somewhere out there, another family would be having that joy now.

Kids being able to play outside. Living in the world, instead of the synthetic housing units that were as much for their safety as ruinous for their freedom.

And then, eventually, even that faded. We were left in silence. With a million things to apologize for, and all of them already being forgiven - but not forgotten. I would never forget what my parents had done, and they would never forget how I broke their trust. And that, too, was something to live with.

We parted on good terms. It was an awkward, exhausting evening, but it hadn’t hurt. We hadn’t screamed, no one fought, and it was… the best family gathering I’d had in years. I snickered at that thought. The bar really was buried in the backyard. But they cleared it. For the first time in what felt like forever, my parents had truly done a satisfactory job.

Not good - far from good. But good enough. They’d changed. And hopefully, eventually, they’d become people I could genuinely be friends with as well. For the first time in forever, I believed they could do it. And that was a nice feeling. But there was safety in knowing that I’d be okay, even if things got worse.

Chapter 174: Aftermath

The evening, eventually, ended. Hours drifted by. I loved it.

Despite everything, I loved it. So did my alternate selves. So did the others. And then, eventually, as it drew too late, Bat closed up the bar.

We went home. It was kind of funny to see how quickly we shook off the buzz. Alcohol couldn’t really do much to anyone with even a bit of power in them. We let it affect us, just a little, to enjoy the moment more, I suspected. But when I rose, a single flare of my Qi burnt it all away.

And so we went home - To the guild hall that was still ruined.

I winced as I saw it, but then, Ann clapped me on the back and showed us a new trick she’d apparently picked up. Chronomancy. Because why wouldn’t she manipulate time at this point.

The entire house rewinded. Shattered shards of glass fused back into smooth panes. Splintered wood became planks, stone and brick glued themselves back together with mortar. By the end, Ann’s mana was spent, and she leaned on me, but she still shot me a satisfied smile, giving me a faint kiss.

“You saved my home,” she whispered. “I thought it was only fair I save ours.”

My eyes teared up, and I just nodded, smiling brightly. Matt gave a wide grin, and quickly rushed inside. “My pajamas!” he called happily, excitedly ruffling through his closet before giving a gasp of happiness. Liam simply sunk into the shadows, Emilia climbed up the stairs while half-carrying Eric, who struggled to hold his liquor a bit more.

Still, one by one, we went into our home. Chris got the guest room, because of course they did, and I gently helped Ann into the bed. It was… all there again.

The place I’d spent the last year living. The place that had become my home, filled with the people who’d become my home. I smiled, feeling overwhelmed, and for a long, long while I just sat on the bedframe, staring at the wall. Cass eventually appeared again, petting my back gently, and I smiled at her, too, pulling her into a hug.

“We did it,” I said.

“We did,” she returned with a smile. “We won. We’re free.”

- - -

Eventually, the moment faded. I changed into my pajamas, and went to sleep, covering myself with blankets and cuddling up to Ann. Then, I closed my eyes, and let it all fade away.

A moment later, I awoke on a snow-covered mountain peak, sitting across from Saph.

And Iryel.

The angel of death sat peacefully in the snow, his wings turned a black as dark as the abyss, looking almost shapeless. They lost all their depth as they embraced him gently. When I opened my eyes, blinking wearily, Iryel, too, opened his, and I was met with pools of abyssal light.

“Ah,” he said, and his voice rang with a chorus. “Fio, friend. Your focus rests here again.”

“Oh,” I said. “Hir?”

The divine smiled, and it was a beautiful thing even on mortal features. “Yes. We are glad you recognize us. Iryel has lent us his body for this, but we are still we.”

I nodded, slowly. “Why are you here?” I asked, carefully.

At that, their smile widened. “I fear saying to congratulate you wouldn’t do it justice, would it?”

“Was… that a joke?” I asked, blinking in confusion. When Hir just nodded gently, I shook my head with a snicker. “You’re impossible.” Still, the tension drained from my shoulders. I would not be fighting them.

“I would like to be added to your [Transference]. And then I shall see if my idea goes well,” they said, smiling. 

The words shocked me. My heart stopped for a moment, I blinked, then shook my head. “What?”

“You heard me, Fio,” they said. “This is a request, and you can refuse, but…” they held a hand out to me, tilting their head faintly, “I think this is a good deal for the both of us.”

For a moment, I felt fear. At what might happen, what brought this about, but then I looked at Hir’s face. They’d granted us an altar for Neamhan. Had apologized and admonished the other divines when they messed up. They’d been polite to me, and I trusted them. Even Iryel had always been fair to me, even saved my life once or twice.

I took a long, deep breath, then grabbed their hand. “Alright,” I said.

“You won’t regret this, I promise,” the divine said, and I chose to trust them one more time.

[Hir’ythel, Chorus of the Damned has been added to your [Transference] network.]

A change rippled through it. Until now, the network had been laced thick with a song. A shared melody that thrummed through all of us, grew with every added individual, and now, it skyrocketed. 

Notes of music resonated in my chest, and I felt my talent grow once more as Hir shared theirs. The talent at the core of who they were. [Corpsewhisperer].

Despite the ominous name, it was far simpler than it seemed. Simply, it allowed one to hear and learn from the passive death that pervaded a world, as well as more specifically from any recent, nearby death. I looked at Hir for a long moment as they leaned back, and breathed.

The Echo, the thrumming song, was still perfectly contained. Crystalline music coursed through the divine’s veins now, but they did not mind. There were no adverse effects. Echo, itself, truly wasn’t bad. The usurper’s use of it was.

“Is that proof enough?” Hir asked, facing the sky. For a long time, it was quiet, and then, begrudgingly, the answers came.

Archiva, hungry to learn more, instantly agreed.

Argus, wanting to grow, tentatively gave his affirmation.

And Lurelia, scared of change, was against it.

But that was fine. She’d been outvoted. Hir had shown their determination, proven that the Echo in the network was different, and now gave me a nod. “There. No more threats to you. Eden has suffered for too long to see more death. So, I needed to prove that there was a path forward without cages.”

Their eyes drifted to Saph, the crystalloid still sitting still, arms folded in their lap. “No cage for you, either. I want you to be able to walk this world.”

Slowly, Saph moved their head to meet the divine, tilting it. “Why?”

“I heard it,” Hir said simply. “You never wanted to infect, never wanted to ruin this world, right? So, stay here. Make this your home. Not a conquered one, but a chosen one.”

Saph stared, then their motions lightened, their movements giving a crinkling that was somewhere between crumpling aluminum foil and laughter. “A home,” they said happily. “Yes. I’d quite like that. My old home threw me into war when I was born. This world suits me more.”

“Good. See, we just had a spot for a new divine opening up. Three spots, actually…” Hir said with a wink, and I held back a laugh.

- - -

That was how Eden healed. In the passing months, it would rebuild. The world learned about Echo, and about the song, and developed its own ways to deal with resonance. Hir, Iryel and Saph led the charge in the research on how to use the new energy productively; how to move forward rather than backward.

Usurpers were still an invasive species, but Vivi found herself rather happy to assist with that - not with murder, but with containment and sending them back. None of the divines of Eden wanted another deal with the keepers, who demanded a tithe of Divinity and power in exchange, so instead, Cass and Vivi dealt with it.

They sent usurpers back to their home worlds, and, in doing so, found those worlds. The leyburn that had once nearly killed me helped with that, too, turning into a stalwart friend for Saph, and one of the divinities of Eden.

Now that the world had defenders strong enough to deal with any trouble, there was no more need for dimensional reinforcements, but the gates between Neamhan and Eden stayed open. In fact, the two worlds entered a much closer partnership, trading resources, items, and even energy back and forth.

This was spearheaded by Ivan, who cooperated with Foundational Exchange and later on took over the company. 

For Zinnic the future was darker. Almost all their board members saw some amount of jail time for selling out our world. The exact crime was “attempted repossession and sale of public property” - though those who had been puppeteered into it were given a much lighter sentence.

Richard Terril, the CEO of the company, stepped down voluntarily. He met with me, just once, and apologized. For all his rudeness, and all the problems he’d caused. Apparently, seeing things from the down low, as someone forced to cooperate, had shifted his perspective a bit. He also understood that I might never forgive him… but he just wanted out. Away from it all. So, Reya cured him of any lingering Echo, and we sent him on his way into an early, cushy retirement. Though he, eventually, ended up taking a job working at a bar.

Ivan eventually changed the company quite a bit. People were paid fairly for resources retrieved from Eden, and it became half-courier-service, half-cultural-exchange-program. Seeds of Edian plants were crossbred with ones native to Neamhan, kept in seedbanks, and we created magical variants of mundane plants that could survive even in the shitty atmosphere.

New laws about emissions were implemented. Companies grumbled, but the government had more resources now. The world was changing, and for once, it was for the better. It moved forward. 

Chris asked for my help with making a new shell, and I did so happily. We built something from golden glass, my Qi element. A radiant golem, which Ann etched magical circuitry into. It took a month of working on it consistently, but by the end, Chris was more than happy with it, giving me a long hug.

And the two worlds continued onwards. The worst had passed. The tide had turned. 

In the weeks and months after the death of Legacy, what really happened was that hope blossomed. For once, it was obvious to see the trajectory: things were improving. The air, slowly, got clearer. People who were interested in making the world a better place got enough resources to do so.

The sun set, and the sun rose on a new dawn. One where, perhaps, ambition would carry the world forward. So that as I was free, everyone could be.

Because everyone deserves freedom. Spread your wings, and fly.

Chapter 173: Later at the Bar

We went to Bat’s bar. It was just as tucked away as I remembered it being, which was good, because frankly, I did not want to deal with all the celebrity stuff just then. Ion went in first, giving the barkeep a friendly wave.

“Hey Bat,” she greeted with a smile. 

“Hm?” The young man turned around to face us, then his hazel eyes widened. “Oh. Oh hell. Are you-”

Emilia shook her head with a laugh. “Nah, nah. ‘Course not. We’re just regular people.” She gave him a bright smile, and Bat got the message rather quickly.

He nodded, putting a customer service smile on his face as he caught himself. “Right, of course,” he said. “What can I get you all? You can take the table in the corner, it should have enough space for you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when he dropped the issue immediately. We still got a few stares, but at the same time, no one approached. Today had been… a strange day to say the least.  The ceiling of the bar was a little bit cracked, and some dust covered the floor, as if it had been shaken by a mild earthquake.

Which, granted, it probably had. From under the table, I felt more than saw Emilia stomp her foot, and the bricks and mortar flowed back together, turning the building nice and sturdy, fixing any cracks in the foundation. She gave us a cheeky wink, then ordered a cocktail for herself.

One by one, we placed our orders. Trichtera let Emilia pick for her since she didn’t exactly know the local culture. Marie, Ann and Eric got something light, while Reya ordered something with frankly far too much alcohol. Amusingly, while I got myself a simple margarita, Ion ordered a long island ice tea, then shot me a smile when I looked over at her.

Not that alcohol did much anymore, what with cultivation. We could choose not to purge the poison, of course, which… well. Maybe a bit of a buzz would be pleasant. 

There were benefits to magic, though. For example, Marie pulled out a paper talisman, and placed it in the middle of our table, and suddenly, the surroundings quieted. They didn’t go silent, but the background noise of the bar faded a little. 

I leaned back, taking a deep breath. The others started talking, but it was drowned out by the noise in my head. My ears had stopped ringing by now, but the buzzing of my thoughts hadn’t stopped.

It was a bizarre sensation. To have killed the usurper. Knowing it was done, knowing that the keepers were finished… and existing in two places.

Across the world, over in Eden, I was still lying on a snow covered mountaintop. Clouds covered the lilac sky, gentle flakes of white slowly drifting down and landing on my face. I breathed in cool, mountain air, and at the same time, I breathed in the stale, chemical air of the bar I was in, cleaned by filters.

A cloud covered sky and one made of aged synthwood boards. What a bizarre feeling. Existing in two places at once.

Of course, far more bizarre than that was the feeling of freedom. 

Orvan was avenged. I’d killed the conqueror, the one in charge of taking over Eden. Sure, the usurpers had more in store… but they’d lost, already. It was over. My gateway wasn’t just glowing within me anymore, it was burning. A radiant source of power. I could call forth a dozen copies of me if I needed. I could exist in more worlds than just these.

It was bizarre. The feeling of power that washed through me. The song thrumming in my veins. That, too, was fed by my victory. Even now, I could feel that humming melody in my heartbeat eat at the Echoing remnants of what remained of Legacy. Some part of them would live on through me, as a stepping stone. Perhaps that, too, was a way of leaving a legacy behind.

Didn’t matter to me. The keepers had their territory devoured. The usurpers were done for. 

Sure, they might have gods… but we could beat those. Sure, they might have people above even that, but they had to play by the rules. By world-stability and deals with the keepers to travel. And I didn’t.

That was the fundamental difference between the usurpers and me, now. They needed to steadily corrupt worlds, to invade them piece by piece, to cut deals before sucking things dry. And for us? That wasn’t the case.

With the gateway, I felt it. I could go other worlds now, places aside from Eden, places-

Bat gently placed a glass in front of me. I stared at it for a moment, almost confused, then gave a drowsy smile. I felt so tired. The adrenaline was finally washing from my veins, and I felt almost lethargic.

Not the brutal, crushing kind of lethargy. Just the calm, quiet that came from the end of a workday. I felt like I’d finally clocked out. Like the deed was done. Not fully, of course, but the toughest part was over. 

Gingerly, I reached out and took a sip of my drink. It washed away the lingering taste of battery acid on my tongue, and replaced it with that faint burn of alcohol. I looked to Ann, and she gave me a quiet, knowing smile. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and ruffled my hair, placed a small kiss on my lips, then turned back to listen to the group.

Slowly, breath by breath, I opened my ears, too. I joined the moment. I let the future drift away, falling to the side like flakes of snow. Soon, I’d tackle it all, but for now, I didn’t need to. I’d earned my rest - and I would take it. Even if it was just a single evening with my friends.

So I leaned forward. I listened. I watched. When Marie talked about her time alone on Neamhan, and showed photos of little wooden statues she'd carved. When Liam asked Bat for a few knives and juggled them to Reya’s stifled snorts. When Emilia promised to drink Eric under the table - and promptly followed up on it.

I snickered when Matt turned down the third girl trying to flirt with him that evening, and gave him a pat on the back when he turned down a guy, too. We talked, we laughed, we played some cards, we vented about how shit everything had been. How much it fucking sucked to fight all the time, to have to deal with terrible crap upon coming home.

About parents and their expectations and their absences. About lost friends, petty high school drama, about old relationships, and who we were crushing on. That’s also how Eric and Emilia ended up together. When the cleric was a little tipsy, he finally admitted he liked her, and our shieldbearer promptly smooched him, to everyone’s delight and Matt’s rolling eyes.

Bit by bit, the evening passed us by. Bit by bit, the minutes ticked over.

And, eventually, the bar door swung open, and another friend of ours walked in.

Chris.

They awkwardly shuffled in with their human shell, giving a look around until their eyes landed on us and glinted. They’d changed clothes, wearing a hoodie with a cat on it and long, flowing pants in blue-black. When they spotted us, their lips curled into a smile, and they headed over.

“Ah, good evening everyone. I have come to find that clothing in this world is remarkably comfortable. Your fabrics are quite lovely. Though I must say that your shopkeeps could use more practice in haggling. When I offered a handful of gold coins they told me to simply take what I wanted,” they greeted.

Instantly, I laughed. “Good to see you too, Chris,” I said, smiling at their antics as they sat down. “You’re alive.”

“Remarkably so,” they said. “I expected to have at least this shell annihilated, and perhaps my entire existence erased. Yet, nothing happened. Perhaps Legacy had a change of heart at the end.”

Ann took a long sip from her cocktail, then flashed Chris a smile. “People do change most when they’re about to die. It took me death to realize I didn’t like being a goddess.”

The triz-adu nodded solemnly. “Indeed. The deaths of our shells mark great steps in our lives, too. It is a moment of grief as much as it is one of growth.”

Matt tapped them on the shoulder. “Enough of that! Impressive pillar of fire! Have you been holding out on us?”

“I would never,” Chris shook their head. “I simply burnt what must be burnt.”

“You never showed us fire-abilities until now,” Emilia noted.

Chris smiled and nodded. “That is true, I did not. Because, until now, I had nothing to properly burn.”

At that, Marie tilted her head. She took a sip from her drink, and gave a soft smile. “I think I got it,” she said.

“Hm?” Chris hummed and tilted their head. “What do you understand?”

“It’s a cultural thing, isn’t it? Some sort of self-imposed rule. Something not meant to be shared with the living, something very important to you personally,” she noted. “I’d imagine that must mean it’s a pretty big secret. Probably something related to your entire species. I think-”

With a sigh, then a chuckle, Chris interrupted her. “Please. No more. Asking me to speak of this is like asking me to remove my clothing in front of the table,” they said, blushing and holding out a hand. “It is intimate and secretive. Do not make me debase myself, please. Especially when you know already.”

I smiled lightly, then nodded. With Marie’s words, it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest. The secret about their shells, and everything else. I didn’t need it spelled out to get it. Instead, I just agreed. “Fine by me. If you wanna talk about it, you can. But I won’t pry.”

“Thank you,” the triz-adu said gratefully, giving me a smile and a nod. Then, they focused on the menu. “Now, are any of you willing to help me select something from this list of beverages? I am curious if your drinks are as pleasant as your clothing. Also I do not know why anyone would drink something named after the undead. Or blood.”

With a snicker, we leaned forward, helping them.

The secret fell by the wayside. Unimportant. For just that evening, all of us allowed ourselves to feel mundane. To be just normal people. Not celebrities, not warriors, just friends, sitting, talking, and laughing together.

It was a little bit of a lie, and it was a little bit of a truth. But most importantly, it was freeing. And that was the greatest gift I could have asked for.

Chapter 272: The Martial World

Chapter 272: The Martial World

Travelling with other people was distinctly different from setting out on his own, Mercury found. The path was still just as kind to him, of course, but he also wasn’t willing to reveal his entire hand. So, he didn’t overly use <Itinerant>. Instead, they walked. 

Not even particularly fast. Despite Zyl holding his burden, Min was out of breath after not too long. The bandits, too, dragged their feet, as if the journey was hard on them. Really, though, Mercury thought they were just being lazy. With a gentle poke of his finger in their back, they began moving a little more hastily.

“How long to Fuchsia?” Mercury asked their merchant guide.

Min wrung his hands close together, giving a bright smile. “Only three days on foot, esteemed sa-”

A glare silenced him. He swallowed drily, then nodded slowly.

“Saviour Mercury,” he tried carefully, tasting the words, even as the saviour in question sighed and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. 

“You’re gonna make my hair go grey, Min,” he said exasperatedly.

Zyl affectionately ran a finger through his hair. “Sorry to say, my love. You’re already gray.”

Mercury blinked, then sighed, then snickered. “Yeah,” he finally settled on. “Guess I already am.” Somehow, that seemed to imply that the topic was settled, and he turned back to Min. “So, three days, yes?”

The merchant nodded vigorously. “Indeed! I have provisions a plenty, so if there is anything you want for, simply speak the word.”

“Plenty ‘a game in these parts, too,” Jean noted grumpily. “Can catch somethin’ if we go hungry.”

Faintly, Min paled. “Ah, but these are the Lilac Sky sect’s hunting grounds. If any of the spirit beasts here were to come to harm…” he let the words hang dangerously.

Jean, for her part, picked at her teeth with her fingernails. “So bleedin’ what? Those purple-robed bastards ain’t ever done me a good turn. What do I owe ‘em?”

With a gentle sigh, Mercury gestured for them to quiet down, and instantly, a hush fell over the party. “No need to worry,” he noted. “I will cook if it is needed. No trouble.”

No one objected when he spoke, and with that, his approach to the journey changed a little. First, he turned <Itinerant> to the path again. It shortened instantly, compressing down to a fifth of its original length. By evening, they’d reach the city.

Second, he turned his <Force of the Hecantoncheires> over to Appy. She had the capabilities to analyze any plants in the nearby surroundings. A basket appeared from his inventory, held aloft by a ghostly hand, and swiftly began to dart into the forest around them.

Min stared at the flying object wide-eyed, trying to follow it even when it disappeared into the trees, roots and plants swiftly being gathered. Mercury, for his part, bore no strain, and simply walked ahead, holding the parasol above his head, and shielding his skin with a coating of his Storm’s Raiment.

It wasn’t quite enough to stop the sunlight, but it was more than enough to turn it from an angry burn into something faint enough to feel like gentle sun on ordinary skin to his tempered body. He burnt, yes, but he also regenerated, and grew more used to the damage after.

His body was constantly adjusting, toughening itself twofold, with <Assimilate> and <Tempered Body>. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, but any discomfort was washed away by <Babbling Brook>, the Skill easily handling this minor amount of pain. By now, he could have organs crushed and bones torn out without so much as wincing, so this wasn’t any trouble at all.

And so they walked. Eventually, the wide eyes stopped following his floating basket, carried by invisible hands of force. Eventually, the sun rose, and then began to set. Eventually, Min’s stomach rumbled, and the merchant mumbled excuses. But he had marched a few long hours, so he was tired indeed. 

The motley group set down, and Mercury took the basket from the air where Appy held it to him, mentally offering a thanks to his friends, and physically cupping his hands and giving a small bow. A motion that Min, Jean, Lucky and Brock hastily copied, making Zyl snicker slightly.

[The display of gratitude pleases the integrated consciousness.]

Mercury smiled at the small motion, and everyone else gave a breath of relief at his small smile, having once more feared their execution. Instead, he made a campfire, which Zyl quickly sparked. Then, he pulled out some pots and pans, and sifted through the ingredients Appy had gathered.

Most of them were roots, some grasses, a couple grains and fruits. He eyed them, humming to himself as he considered the haul. <Nutritional Preservation> whispered small notes about what they contained, and what he could make, and Mercury had become a better chef since coming to this world. Still, he had kinda talked big game when he offered to cook, so he intended to do his utmost to back it up.

Which meant assessing what he had, deciding on a meal - a stew, since it was simple - and then pulling out some of his preferred spices. They weren’t quite the same as back on Earth, but he had learnt to use them. 

First, he thinly coated the bottom of a large pan in oil, throwing in some of the fruit, lightly searing it to caramelise the outside before stowing it away. Jean’s eyes opened a little wide when things fell apart into perfect cubes when Mercury simply looked at them, his new cutting Skill on full display.

He <Carved> the vegetables up, frying those that could caramellize, adding them based on how long they took to cook. Meanwhile, in another pot, he began boiling the grain with some herbs. When the vegetables were prepared, he added them to that pot, adding more spices and tasting it occasionally, letting more liquid evaporate until it thickened up.

In the end, it was somewhere between a wheat porridge and a stew, but it did end up tasting rather delicious. He handed everyone else bowls, garnished it with some fruit on top - something that was about the size of watermelon but tasted almost like apple, fried to match the heat of the rest of the dish.

“Dig in,” he said with a wave of his hand, holding his parasol with a ghostly hand as he, himself, began to eat. Brock dug in immediately, Min waited until Mercury had the first spoonful, and Lucky and Jean only touched their food when he was halfway through his bowl - despite his assurances that it wasn’t poisoned.

[You have acquired the Skill <Cooking lv. 1> through a specific action.]

“Huh,” he noted. “Got a Skill from that.”

Jean snorted for a moment, then caught herself. “I do hope it’s not <Poisoning these Ex-Bandits to Death>,” she noted with dry humor.

Mercury smiled faintly. “No. Just <Cooking>,” he said. 

“It’s good,” Brock admitted readily. The big lug wasn’t very talkative, but he generally seemed jovial. He liked hitting things, but he could also take a good hit and laugh it off. He liked seeing things, he liked feeling the sun, he liked good food apparently… Mercury thought he was the simplest out of their new bands of companions.

The ex-bandit-leader simply snorted at that, but quietly nodded her approval. “Coulda used some meat,” she noted distantly.

“Oh, hush,” Mercury waved her off. “I don’t wanna kill if I don’t have to. And this is a plenty filling meal. If it’s too little, I’ll make you seconds.” 

“Still wouldn’t have meat,” she grumbled.

“I can cut my arm off and cook it for you,” Mercury suggested dryly.

At that, the entire camp froze. Apparently, what had been intended as a half-joke half-offer did not go over so well when he looked distinctly human and these people were already a little terrified of him. In fact, he could see the way Min flinched back from Jean, as if afraid to get caught in the crossfire.

Lucky, too, was terrified, pausing like a deer in headlight, while Jean Rockbreaker herself broke out in a cold sweat and shiver. “N-no, exalted sir,” she stammered. “T-that will not be necessary. This one humbly thanks you for the meal.”

Mercury grimaced. “My apologies. I intended to jest, not make you uncomfortable. If it makes you worry less at all, then you shall have my promise that I do not seek to harm or kill any of you unless very extenuating circumstances apply. Words are no cause for me to kill you.” He didn’t currently have <Truth> running, since he had cloaked himself in a <Lie>, but the sincerity in his words still rang through, wringing some of the tension out of the bandit.

“Thank you for your assurance, sir,” Jean said, her voice still dry. 

Zyl leaned back in the grass, placing his empty bowl aside and laying down with a snicker. “You people sure lead intense lives. But I suppose the powerful can be casual about the lives of the weak.”

“Yes,” Min said tersely, giving a dry swallow. “They can be very casual about our lives. Mortals like me get some benefit of the doubt but… the early stages of cultivation reap the most lives. To step into the martial world is to embrace the risk of death.”

“Why’d you do it?” Mercury asked, looking at Jean. “Why’d you risk your life for… this?” He gestured around himself, at the wilderness. There was nothing out here. No buildings, no nice place to sleep, no restaurants. It was beautiful, yes, and quiet, too. But apparently, her life was at risk every time she encountered someone. So, he wanted to know.

Jean grit her teeth for a moment, averting her eyes. “It’s-”

“You don’t have to say,” Mercury interrupted her, holding up a hand. “To be very clear. If you wish to remain silent on this, I will not press.”

And, indeed, Jean remained silent. She looked back at him with large eyes, then nodded once, swallowing again. Mercury smiled gently, then collected the bowls with a sweep of telekinesis. He cast a bit of magic to quickly clean them off, the remains of the food dripping to the floor easily under the falling rain. Then, when the bowls were clean, he dried it with the wind contained in his raiment, then stowed them away.

Eventually, after minutes had passed, he looked at Jean again. “You don’t owe me your story,” he said, sweeping his gaze over them. “None of you do. But I am curious. So, if any of you wish to tell, I will listen.”

Brock gave a snort. “Not much too it,” he said. “Shit life. Dead parents. Stole from a shopkeep. Beaten to near death. Fought back, beat him to death.” He shrugged. “On the run since.”

“And once more, I learn the lesson not to judge too quickly,” Mercury said with a sigh. “Will you be apprehended in the city?” he asked.

The bandit shook his head. “Nah. Been ages. I grew up. No one’ll recognize me. Just…” he shrugged again. “Never saw a reason to go back.”

Mercury nodded, then let the silence hang for another dozen seconds or so. Neither Lucky nor Jean spoke up. So, instead, he simply offered his smile and a small bow to Brock. “Thank you for sharing,” he said. Then, he took his parasol, stood up, dusted off his metallic pants, and nodded. “Let us walk on, then. Are either of you gonna get into trouble with law enforcement?” Mercury asked.

Jean shook her head slowly, and Lucky shook his a whole lot quicker. “No, sir,” he said. “No trouble.”

“They do have a bounty,” Min noted. This news seemed to be news to the bandits as much as it was to Mercury. The mopaaw quickly rubbed his eyes some more. 

“Of course they do,” he muttered. “What do I do with you people?” he noted with a sigh. “No matter. We shall settle that when we are in the city. Do you use currency?”

“Same pales and glooms as everywhere else, sir,” Min provided helpfully. “Though coins of gold and bartering are more common than in the west.”

That made Mercury nod again. “Give me your dagger, Min,” he said, motioning to the small weapon the man kept belted. It was more of a knife, suited for peeling apples or slicing bread rather than stabbing someone.

“Pardon, saviour?” the merchant asked.

“Your knife,” Mercury said. “Hand it over.”

A second passed, then another. And then, with hasty motions, Min unbelted the knife, and placed it in Mercury’s hand. The old monster stared at the knife, running his thumb across the blade without a mark on his skin. Min felt a drop of sweat run down the nape of his neck.

What was that hidden expert up to now? He was hard to predict. So gentle, then so crude. Min half-expected to get stabbed in the gut and drained dry, but then his eyes widened.

On that mysterious senior’s palm, his shabby old knife shifted. The metallic grey shifted. It was like a wave crawled across the surface of the metal. It’s material shifted. Iron turned copper in a blink. Then it turned silver-grey, a beautiful sheen of untarnished silver, shrinking faintly. Then, it shrunk some more as another ripple passed over it, and the silver turned to gold.

The shabby wooden handle fell off, the tang now too small to properly fit it, but the steel… all of it had turned pure gold. Min stared at it, barely stopping his mouth from falling open. With an almost casual gesture, his saviour, Mercury, snapped the blade in half.

It was a perfectly clean break, as if the world itself had decided to sever the knife. Mercury held out half of it to the merchant, extending the tang for Min to grip - probably so that the mortal wouldn’t cut himself. Min swallowed, his eyes still bulging. “Saviour, I…”

“Mercury,” the man chided gently. “No protests. I broke your knife. It is only right I repay it,” he said.

And then, when greed warred with fear in Min’s heart, greed won again. He quickly snatched the piece of solid gold, feeling its weight heavy in his hands. “Saviour… how…” he stammered.

The man tilted his head slightly, and spoke with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Leave me a trick or two, will you?”

“Of course!” Min agreed instantly, his voice cracking. There was nothing else to say. The bandits just stared at the ease at which Mercury had turned something worthless into literal gold. There was nothing false or fake about it.

Was this hidden senior some master alchemist then, too?! The question raced through their heads. But quickly, as Mercury kept walking, they moved to catch up with him again. Min wrung his hands next to the monster, smiling nervously. “Apologies, saviour, but… perhaps, are there other talents of yours that I may… need to know about?”

Mercury playfully raised an eyebrow. “Need to know? Why would you need to know?”

Min jumped in fright. “Ah! I wish to know, I mean, of course, I would simply… well, perhaps in the city you may ply your services and I thought-”

“You want to broker my services and get a cut,” Mercury said with a playful smile, cutting through all the circumspect navigation. “Yes. I am a blacksmith, though I know some minor woodworking. My partner is a painter and herbalist.”

Instantly, he saw the merchant taking mental note of it, probably already planning on what to do with that info. Mercury simply shook his head with a smile, focusing on the road again, letting Jean lead the way. They weren’t too far out from Fuchsia after all.

And until now, their reactions had been delightful - outside of the fear. Mercury was rather excited to see their jaws drop again when they arrived two days ahead of schedule.

- - - 

And, indeed, by the time the sun was beginning to set, and shadows dragged longer in the land, they saw the gate to Fuchsia city appear from the forest as they walked along a curve in the road. Min froze at the sight.

He took a look to the left and the right of them, scanning the trees, then frowned deeply. “That’s Fuchsia City,” he noted, looking at the gate. “We’re… here?” 

“How fortuitous,” Mercury said happily, giving a nod. “We must have taken an opportune turn somewhere.”

Zyl snickered. “We followed the road the entire time!” 

“We… we must’ve been closer to the city than I remembered,” Min said shakily, eyeing the ground underneath his feet as if it had betrayed him. 

Jean, too, seemed caught aback. “Were we this close to the city?” she muttered to herself.

With a clap of his hands, Zyl commanded their attention again. “Alright,” he said. “Regardless of whether we got lucky or not, we’re here! So, let’s be on our best behaviour.”

The way the words came out was casual, but still made everyone else straighten their backs. Min took the lead as they approached the gate, the guard there eyeing him with familiarity. It was a tall woman, with raven hair fashioned into a ponytail that reached below her hips. The wore faintly lilac robes, and a distinctly pink sash holding them closed. 

“Merchant Min. You return, already?” Then, she looked past him, at his entourage. “And you bring… the Rocksplitter bandits? Are you here to claim the bounty?”

At her words, the merchant quickly gave a short bow. “Yes, I return. No, I am not here to claim a bounty. In fact, it is my saviours who apprehended the bandits, not me.” He gave a swift motion at Mercury and Zyl.

The guard gave a light snicker at that. “I was wondering how you’d apprehended the bandits. Are your saviours cultivators, then?” She eyed Mercury and Zyl up and down, one with robes and a parasol, the other an immaculate suit, carrying the merchant’s pack. “They look the type. Rogue cultivators, then?”

Mercury tilted his head a little with curiosity, but let Min continue to speak. “Yes, indeed. If they belong to a sect, I do not know which. But they come from the west, it seems. Saviour Mercury is a blacksmith, while saviour Zyl is an herbalist, or so I’ve been told.”

She hummed, then nodded. “Good. You may ply your services in the city, if you find a place to do so, and sell no faulty goods. Don’t cause trouble. As for the bandits, would you like their bounties paid out?” She asked, casually, already stepping forward and taking out a pair of manacles.

“That won’t be necessary,” Mercury said. “I will vouch for them myself. I wish to pay off their bounty. Any damages caused by them while inside the city are ones I will cover as well, insofar as they cannot handle it themselves. I am willing to cover any trouble with goods and services provided by myself.”

At that, the guard raised an eyebrow. “The word of a rogue for a couple of bandits? Well, fine, as long as you pay their bounty back in full. We’ll be keeping a close eye on them, though.”

With a small nod, Mercury placed the half of the golden dagger in her hand. “Does this suffice?” he asked quietly.

The guard stared at the metal, then nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said. “That’ll… take care of their bounty. Half this much would do-”

“Keep the rest,” Mercury said with a smile. The guard gave him a long look, but nodded. 

“Well then,” she said. “Welcome to Fuchsia City. Don’t cause any trouble.”

With her approval, Mercury gave another nod, and walked through the gate, still holding his parasol above him. The bandits followed him slowly, still flabbergasted at what had just happened. Their bounty was paid off, just like that. And he’d put his name on the line for them.

Lucky swallowed dryly. He… had a second chance. After everything. Walking into the city felt strange after so much time on the road, and he saw Jean eye the buildings with suspicion. She was still expecting an ambush at every corner. But when he faced forward, he thought that maybe, there was a chance things would be alright this time.

“Alright then. Let’s find an inn to turn in for the night?” Mercury asked casually, looking around to spot one. The city was noisy, even at this time of night, becoming louder the further in they went. And it didn’t even take a hundred steps until they did, in fact, come upon two inns.

Their owners were standing outside, loudly yelling at and berating each other.

“Your service is fucking pathetic compared to mine! My noodle recipe has been passed down through three generations of our family! My grandma established this inn with her cooking, and what about you, huh?! Can’t even make a bed, can’t cook!”

“How dare you! Your grandma made this with her noodles, yeah right! Your three generations couldn’t cook as good as what I can make with my pinky toe! Your service is nothing, bastard! You have wasted your legacy leaving your inn to rot, just to try and steal my customers and your business is still failing!”

“Oh yeah?! Let’s settle this then! We will pick a crowd of people, they will taste both our foods, sleep in both our inns, and they’ll decide which one of us is better, bastard!”

“The little frog makes a bet to try and escape the well, huh?! Fine! Loser has to pack up and find a new spot to play their trade!” 

“Deal! You!” one of the owners yelled at Jean. She was the tallest in the crowd, standing a head or two above everyone else. “You look like a woman who knows about good food and good service! How about you and your entourage help us settle this!”

Jean blinked helplessly, then turned to Mercury. Zyl snickered at the gesture, while Min’s eyes glinted. “Yes, good sirs!” the merchant replied on her part. “We will gladly help you settle this!” In an instant, he turned to the rest of the group, grinning conspiratorially. “Free food. Let’s go!” And then, he smoothly approached the two innkeeps.

Mercury sighed with a soft smile. “People here sure live intense lives, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jean nodded slowly. “Apparently they do.”

- - - - - -

Fuchsia City was under the control of the Lilac Skies sect. One of their elders, Bo Dan, sat on his throne, tapping his chin as he looked at a slab of gold brought to him by one of his guards. “Hmmmm,” he hummed slowly. “And you say this rogue blacksmith has put his name on the lines for a few ruffians?”

“Yes, elder,” the guard replied with a curt nod.

“Indeed, indeed. You’ve done well to bring this to my attention, Xiao-er,” he praised, tapping his throne with a slight smile. “It would, indeed, be a true shame if anything were to happen to these honored guests. Let us ensure that they are treated with all the warmth they deserve, hmm?” he asked, smiling smugly.

“Of course, elder,” Xiao Hui nodded. She waited for the silence to stretch on before letting out a slow breath, rising to her feet, and turning around. She knew exactly what the elder expected, but held her misgivings until she was further out. 

Then, eventually, she let out a long sigh as the pressure faded away. She took a moment to steady herself, then sought out the court of inner disciples. There were a few young masters and mistresses looking to prove themselves, after all. And acquiring precious resources for the sect was, after all, an honorable duty.

Even if the mission meant causing trouble for a rogue. If they couldn’t handle trouble, they should not have stepped into the martial world.

Chapter 172: Burial

Chris looked at me with steel and kindness in their eyes. The request was both for my sake… and theirs. I looked across the battlefield and saw the reason.

The rock-hound that was one of their shells… it was gone. Pulverized. The granite had turned to dust. Dead, and never to be revived again. Chris had lost yet another piece of themselves, and yet, they smiled gently at me.

“Do not mourn me,” they said. “I still live, by human standards. I will remember that part of myself. But I must bury it. Please. Grant me that kindness. I may lose another shell in doing so, but…” they looked at the kneeling usurper. “I have lost many in the endless war. Corrupted and turned. If I can finally end this, then finally, I must bury no more.”

I looked at them for a long moment. Ann slowly floated down, landing next to me. She took my hand in hers, squeezed it, then spoke. “Let them do it, Fio.”

Sighing gently, I shook my head as if to clear it. “Right,” I said. “You deserve it. Thanks for fighting for my world Chris. Bury them. I think I… I got family to visit,” I said.

They nodded, understanding. “There is much for us to clear up, still,” they said. “But for now, I will do this for myself. Take care, friend. I will see you when it is done.”

With a nod, I looked at Legacy for one last time. My ruinous wings chimed behind me. I spent a long, lasting moment looking, before I smiled gently. “The mirrors can’t eat you,” I said. “But I think your past mistakes might.”

And then I walked off. Hand in hand with Ann. Matt sheathed his sword with a sigh, wiping the blood from his forehead, and the battle-lust from his eyes. Reya cast a last healing spell, Marie placed a last ward, Liam withdrew from the shadows, manifesting back into a human shape, and Emilia took off her helmet. Trichtera folded her wings, Stella made her bow disappear, and Cass settled to gently floating behind me.

The fight was done. This fight, at least, was over forever. We’d outpaced them.

Usurpers grew quickly. Abhorrently quickly, even. With each win, they grew stronger… and yet, we outgrew them. Because we shared talents. Because we cared for each other. Because we fought for one another’s worlds.

Chris had died for mine. I’d died for theirs. So, fair was fair. I got to crush the keepers. They got to bury Legacy.

And so we walked off. 

- - -

Chris looked at Legacy, at the broken usurper before them. They sighed, and then took a long look at their broken shell. With gentle motions, Chris gathered the dust up in their palms. Handful by handful, they poured it onto the ground next to Legacy.

The usurper watched. Their one remaining eye followed the motions. “So,” they said, eventually. “Is this… some kind of ritual.”

“Yes,” Chris said. “I am mourning.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You need not lie,” Chris said, shaking their head, placing another handful of dust onto the small pile that remained of their rock-hound shell. The leshen stood next to them. 

“How did you figure out I was going to kill her?” Legacy asked.

Chris looked at the usurper, a sad expression on their face. A single tear ran down their cheek in memory of the part of them that had once been, and they breathed the warmth that remained within their being eternally from having worn that shell. “Because you are competent,” the triz-adu answered. “Because you would not fail.”

Legacy sneered at that. “Yeah,” they said. “I wouldn’t, but now I will. Fucker. All because of you. Because you’re so clever, huh? Bitch. If you’d not fucking interfered, I would-”

“This is my fourth shell that died in this war,” Chris spoke. “You cost me the first body I ever wore, did you know that? It was a beautiful thing, shaped by those who spawned me. A wonderful creation of ice and air. Of frozen light. And it died.”

They looked down at the usurper, and remained silent for a dozen passing seconds. “The second shell I lost was my first prized hunt. A dragon. It was not even killed, but wrenched from me. Infested by one of your kind, a fungus that puppeteered its body, wrenching it from me. It was stolen.”

Rage and grief settled into their features. The kind that came from losing family. “The third,” they said, their voice quivering. “Was that of the first human I took on. The one I first spoke to Fio with. The first one I made friends with. A human I killed with my own two hands. You killed it, and I was forced to take a new one. To see someone I killed die again… it was a strange thing to mourn,” they said.

“And, finally, you take another. The first one I crafted for myself. Rocks piled on rocks,” Chris spoke. Their hand clenched into a fist. “I have lost so much. So many precious things, now only in my memories. I have lost myself and rebuilt myself all over. More than three shells. Three shells are an entire life for us. And you cost me four of them.”

The triz-adu breathed, grief overtaking fury. Loss outweighing hatred. They took a long moment, looking at the usurper. “You know what it is like to lose?”

Legacy gave them a long look, then turned to the ground. “I’d forgotten,” they admitted. “But I remember, now.”

“That is good,” Chris nodded. Their face was placid, their leshen shell standing next to their human one, expressions inscrutable. “My name is Chikrotekete. My friends call me Chris. You are Legacy. You are the legacy of your actions, the forces you led, the leader of those who killed me once over, and made me remake myself. You killed me, and you birthed me all at once. I have grown, and for that I thank you. You have killed me, and for that I will burn you. You have changed me, and for that, I will remember you.”

At those words, Legacy finally cracked a little. There was no emotion on their face, even the faint defeat washing away from them. The murder finally caught up with them. They burnt out on the cruelty, burnt out on the violence of war. Conquest broke in them, and they truly became Legacy. But it was, sadly, too late.

Chris took out a shovel. They buried the pile of dust that was leftover from their rock-hound shell. They’d made it as a child, their first construction, with so very much help. They’d carved its crude shapes. And now, they laid them back with the earth.

And then, when the dust was buried, Chris stood. Silently, mourning, grieving. Legacy, too, remained silent.

Only after a minute had passed did Chris gently place the shovel atop the grave of their past shell. Chris looked to Legacy. “I know you will take more from me when I kill you,” they said. “That you will do whatever it is you planned to do to Fio. That it may extinguish me forever, across all my bodies. I know you can, I don’t doubt that you will.”

“And yet, you’ll do this?” Legacy asked, facing Chris again.

The triz-adu nodded. “I will,” they said, reaching into the air beside them. It split open, revealing their inventory, and they pulled out another body. Red streaks of hair, tall, woven from fire and darkness. It was a faceless thing of sharp edges and brutal efficiency. “This is the greatest secret of the triz-adu. We are not limited to three bodies, you see. I could live in… a hundred, perhaps, now.” They smiled at that, for they had grown. “I could spread across the world, and you would be unable to extinguish me.”

“But you won’t,” Legacy whispered.

Chris nodded once more. “I will not. Because it is not who I am, because I must lay this to rest. For myself. And if this costs me my life,” they eyed the usurper for a long, horrible moment, then breathed out, shoulders slumping slightly. “If it costs my life, then I will give it. So, Legacy. Kill me if you will.”

With a breath, the gravetender came to life. Hair drifted like magma. The air around it heated up already. Power bubbled and boiled inside that shell, enough power to incinerate so much more than the pitiful grave they’d dug. All three of Chris’ shells stood before the grave. Despite the dead part of them, they were complete. 

Legacy looked at the gravetender, at the flaming tendrils, at the way Chris looked at them. Their broken form was bleeding, still, but their blood evaporated in the face of the horrid heat. Temperatures climbed and the rocks began to melt faintly, turning glassy and red. 

Finally, Chris stepped back as a human and as a leshi. And Chris stepped forward as a gravetender.

They raised their hand, slowly, reverently. Their dark, faceless shell stared at Legacy, then at the shovel above its grave. It held for a long moment. The triz-adu met the usurper’s eyes for a long moment. “Farewell, forever.” Then, fire reigned.

- - -

Ann felt the heat first. She was always one to understand fire, so she turned a moment before the pillar of flame rose. “Holy fuck,” she said.

It pierced the sky. I blinked, as it burnt itself into my retinas. The clouds, having just pulled in again, burnt at it. The smog in the air turned to ash at the heat. It burnt so hot, the air around it shimmered with a haze, and I could feel the heat brush against my skin.

Like staring into the sun. “Is that… Chris?” I asked.

Matt stood with his mouth open. “Holy shit,” he said. “That’s a lot of fire.”

Emilia laughed a soft snort. “Dang. They were holding out on us,” she said. Then she snickered again. “Whelp. Since it’s a sunny day, now, let’s get something to drink?”

I blinked. Then I shook my head. I opened my mouth to reply, but Ion did so before me. “Yeah,” she said. “I know a place.”

“Sounds good to me,” Emilia said with a grin. “Let’s go.” She placed an arm around Ion, pulling her along, through the streets, past the people staring at us, staring at that roaring, final pillar of flame in the distance.

It marked the end of the war for two worlds. It burnt itself into my eyes. It was the final breath of a world-conquerer. The ash fell, slowly, tiny flakes of it drifting into my hair, and I finally tore my eyes away from the pillars. Ann squeezed my hand, and I smiled at her, just a hint. “Yeah,” I said. “I think a drink sounds nice.”

Chapter 171: Gateway

I stood in my astral realm, staring at the gateway. Cass was outside, fighting alongside Ion, my other self. 

Some part of me felt gleeful at that. Watching ‘myself’ be in multiple positions, fighting on multiple fronts. No, that’s a lie. Some part of me was gleeful that it wasn’t me fighting. That someone else carried the load for once.

I breathed, looking at my mirror image.

That’s what the gateways were, after all. Mirrors. Mine was surrounded by handprints, made by fragments, melding together. Ever-growing, ever-strengthening. It was laced with Qi, fed by my maelstrom, and it was laced with Echo. A song that thrummed throughout it.

The gateway was hungry. It took every kind of power… for what?

It was the first time I wondered that. It had given me so much, and taken so much, too. I was a target because of it. Wanted by keepers and usurpers. But at the same time, it gave me talent. It let me share that with my friends. It let me learn and grow and thrive.

It took my freedom away. It gave me freedom.

I breathed, and pressed my hand against the glass. There was another ‘me’ on the other side of that mirror. My mirror image. Not Ion, not me from another world. Just me. 

Slowly, I tilted my head, watching as my mirror image did the same thing. Thinking that, perhaps, she was just as real as me, waiting on the other side of that mirror. With a different dominant hand, parting her hair to the other side, and yet still just the same as me.

Gently, her lips pulled into a smile, and so did mine. “Be kind to yourself,” I whispered, and so did she. Be kind to myself.

Ion was fighting for me. Living as my shield. Was that truly who I was? To let my alternate selves fight while I hid away in another world, just… what? Waiting? Hoping for the best?

No, that wasn’t me. I fought for my freedom. Every step of the way. And so, like I always did when I went to another world… 

I stepped through the mirror.

- - -

Glass enveloped me. It was all around me, filling my nose, brushing against my eyes. It was cloying, suffocating, freeing. I opened my eyes, and saw myself. Not… alternate version, but just me. My mirror images. Every mirror I’d ever looked at. 

And, of course, myself.

My sleeping body. 

When changing worlds, after all, bodies were put into stasis. I had a body to be used on Neamhan. But it was just out of reach, kept by the keepers, in some other gateway.

That was okay, though. I still, after all, had my mirror images.

And that was what happened. I stepped into myself, through myself, into my own gateway. When Ion turned to liquid glass, the first person to step out to save Neamhan wasn’t Emilia or Eric, not Trichtera or Chris, and not even Stella. 

It was me.

I was still in Eden. My vision split, as my [Transference] network connected me to myself. 

And then, I was inside two bodies.

“Hey there, shithead,” I greeted happily, spinning Astraeus in my hand. “Miss me?” Conquest’s eyes widened as I stabbed at them, driving them back.

A moment later, the others followed. Emilia, Eric, Chris, Trichtera… and even Stella. I didn’t put her into the body from Neamhan, though. Instead, we maintained her Edian body, sending her through in perfect health.

All at once, they spilled forward, piling onto Conquest. The usurper’s eyes widened. “No! What?! Keepers! She should have been kept in Eden! Get her, damn it!!”

To be fair to them… they did. In Eden, I found myself surrounded by four keepers. Well, their avatars at least. There was Matryoshka of Secrets, Eyes of Perception, Swamp of Decay, and Manipulation of Possession.

Crumpled paper, layered eyeballs, fetid bog and a coiling mass of puppeteering strings. 

And not a single one of them was a warrior.

How could they be? The keeper traded in favors, not in war. They were good at manipulation, at cutting deals. They fought with avatars that made my eyes bleed, tried to get me to agree to deals that suited them, to forget what they were, to manipulate people who were too weak to resist.

But now? They’d been roped into a fight that wasn’t suitable for them. They were strong, yes, but they were also not used to fighting. And when the pointy end of a spear flies at your face, being used to fighting matters a whole hell of a lot.

Splitting my mind across two bodies was strange. It made me clumsy across both of them, yes, the initial disorientation making my head ache. But, at the same time, Chris had lent us their talent. [Adaptable]. My mind was already shifting, becoming used to the strain, even as I fought and got hurt.

And I got hurt alright. I bled. Against Conquest, against the keepers. 

The war scythe dug into my bones, splattering my blood. Manipulation shot puppet strings through me, pulling at my insides like worms. Matryoshka made the entire world twist with mistruth. It hid and orchestrated, even as Swamp burned my insides.

Fetid poison made me spit more blood, vomiting my guts out. Eyes stared at me, and where they looked, my own skin unravelled. Almost voluntarily, my body peeled itself. It hurt, but despite that, my smile didn’t break.

It didn’t break when I stepped forward to protect Stella and had my arm cut off. It didn’t break when I lost control of an arm, and the strings puppeteered me into stabbing myself through the stomach. My smile didn’t even break when Matryoshka turned me blind entirely.

[Unyielding Metal has reached (Inevitability)!]

And the Gift understood why. My heart kept pumping. I couldn’t help but grin. It was the turning point. It was, finally, at the end of it all, the turning point. We’d win. I knew we’d win.

There were too many allies on our side, and too few for the keepers and usurpers. Because we’d grown too fast. Because they’d pushed too much. Overreached and underdelivered, over and over again. Wasn’t that funny?

In the end, it was their avatars, their nests that had fed me. They’d broken the gateway that I stole. They’d carried the fragments that put it back together. Their avatars fed my manifestations, fed my ability to step through myself. And their own people were rebelling against them.

It was hilarious, because while Saph couldn’t step through to Neamhan, not quite yet, they could fight on Eden. And they fought with us.

Here we were. A human and a usurper, fighting for Eden. An angel, an ex-goddess and a triz-adu fighting on Neamhan. I almost laughed. That’s a lie. I did laugh.

Even when I died. When Matryoshka drove a hidden knife through my skull. When I bled my brain out of my eyes, I laughed. Because, in the end, they had nothing. Another version of myself still lived. And so, my dying body turned to glass, and then a new version of me rose from it. 

Unblemished, unhurt, and holding Astraeus all the same. I swung, I thrashed, I raged, I soared.

My wings spread. They crested the sky, tasted the air, and found freedom. And the tide, slowly but surely, turned.

Blood spilled on the ground. It covered it. My own, that of my friends, that of the usurpers, and even the strange glass that the keepers bled. It always did. People bled for what they loved, for what they needed to change. Neamhan could not stay the same. Eden could not go back to how it was before. 

They needed to be better. To be freer. And that was something worth fighting for.

So I bled with a smile on my face. I crawled out of my own dying body a half-dozen times. I felt the pain, I felt the hurt, and I took it in. I didn’t yield, and pressed on. And then, finally, all at once, the tide flowed the other way.

Saph made it first. Before me, they grabbed onto one of the keepers. Swamp. The poisonous one, the one whose venom did nothing to the crystalloid’s hard shell. They grabbed it with four arms, and pulled.

Glass cracked, then shattered, and its head came off.

A pool of brown, brackish water spilled out of their shattered form. It was a broken avatar, of course, not their true self, but it mattered little for the power invested. It was so much, and the keepers descended like vultures.

But the body was made from glass, and before anyone, I stepped through that reflection. 

I drank it in. The gateway fragments, the liquid power. Within me, the gateway hungered, and I fed it.

[Golden Glass Maelstrom advanced to 6th Step.]

Power flooded me. I called forth another manifestation. Vivi, Ion, me, and now, another version of myself. She, too, rose from me, and joined the fight in a flurry of violence. 

A single death had swung the numbers game in our favour. On Neamhan, Conquest was being battered by an entire army. Yes, they were as strong as a god. Yes, they could split mountains and break the skies. They wielded darkness and frost, they wielded a song so violent it could shatter and chain.

But they were not enough.

It is the fate of cultivators, of resonators, to rise until found insufficient, and on that day, Conquest was found insufficient. A tide of attacks poured down, until they tried to escape to cause collateral damage. To infect the world and break it that way - but Ann did not let them. Liam cut off escape routes, Ann caged the area in, Stella hunted it down with brutally accurate shots, and Marie set up wards. Anytime it fled, Matt was right there, steps carried by the wind, and Chris moved their bodies in tandem, mauling the usurper.

Conquest, too, shed blood. It burned and hissed, because it was not their home. It tried to infect this world, as it had so many others, but the blood burnt. It burnt, because of Reya. Divinity flooded the ground, turning it consecrated. Holy.

That was the other amusing part. The keepers had tried to corrupt the people of this world with Echo. Make them addicted, experiment on them until they broke, and yet, all it had taken was one healer. The faith she gained from the believers on Neamhan was a river that turned into a torrent, as people watched the explosions, and put their hope in us.

The belief of people from Neamhan was enough to clean that world. Reya, in that fight, advanced to the next realm of divinity. Her own forge, blazing hot with belief, ignited, and let her sprout wings, too. Even Trichtera, bruised and battered, set her blood on fire and warred.

Until it was done.

There was no grand moment at the end. No single blow to finish the battle. After Swamp, Possession broke next. Shattered by Nana, my third manifestation, alongside Vivi and Ion. Then I broke Eyes, and finally Matryoshka.

[Golden Glass Maelstrom advanced to 7th Step.]

Each time, my power grew. Each time, my wings fluttered, as I climbed higher. Each one was a weight being lifted, a stone cast aside from my heart. Because they were broken, now.

These were avatars, but I reached through them, and shattered their gateways. I took their fragments into mine, and Cass waged war on their astral realms. Mine expanded, and theirs shrunk. And the four keepers who were too greedy… broke.

And then, it was only Conquest. The symbol of power that was the usurpers. The thing that could not enter Eden, for it was on par with the divines. The thing that could have broken any of us in single combat - that did break me, multiple times.

They, too, broke.

At first, it was a leg. Then an arm. Half of their face. A chunk of their torso. 

Blow after blow, their body was carved away. Until they kneeled. Until Conquest became Requiem, and Requiem became Failure. They kneeled. Their song quieted, its notes exhausted after hours upon hours of screaming battle, after grinding at so many maelstroms of Qi and Mana and Divinity and more Echo that it could not keep up.

Because while its song was strong, our song was shared. And so they lost.

“Ah,” Failure said, at the tip of a spear and a sword. “I see.”

“What do you see?” Matt asked, eyes still alight with fire and fury.

The usurper smiled. “I should have asked for better pay for this job.” It was a sad, broken smile. The kind of a person who could not even conceive that it was over. 

“You’re going to die, and you’re worried about pay?” Ann asked.

“Yeah,” they said. “That’s my life’s work. Resources. More worlds, more people, more song, more power.” They looked to the sky, clouds split, smog dispersed from the raining fire. It was blue, and the sun hung high above. “Huh,” they said slowly. “You know, you got a nice sky here.”

I looked at them for a long while. At the monument that had spelled terror for so long. That had taken Orvan from us. That had made Ann forget my name, for a while. I took a long, deep breath. “Any last words?” I asked.

Failure looked at me with its remaining eye. They tilted their head almost curiously. As if thinking about what to say. “I’d like my name to be Legacy, for this,” they said. I nodded, curtly. Legacy continued. “Let it be known that I fought. That I did my job well. My legacy… I wish for it to be competence.”

“Granted,” I said, gritting my teeth. The fucker had been competent. Abhorrently so. Even now, all of us were bleeding, hurt. Then I drew my spear back - only for Chris to stop me. Their hand on my arm, holding me back from stabbing Legacy to death.

The triz-adu gave one long look at the usurper. “They’ll kill you if you strike them now, Fio,” they said calmly. “Please. Allow me the honor of burying them.”

Chapter 170: Blood Spilled

Ion took a deep breath, brandishing Astraeus, and wiping a bit of blood from her lips. Her ribcage had been caved in a moment before, but was currently on the mend. The spear spun, just in time to deflect another lance of cold darkness.

Requiem clicked their tongue at the sight, quickly being distracted by Matt in melee. The warrior moved with an ultimate, perfect kind of grace. His sword moved, and it was almost like watching a flower blossom in real time. Each step, Requiem shifted to meet him, the demon moving far faster - but with less efficiency. 

A quick movement of its hands, and a staff of perfectly black ice was held within them, helping them fend off Matt’s brutal assault. The swordsman pivoted, slashing from below, only to be turned aside. He wound around, cutting for the demon’s head - then it vanished into the shadows.

Where it immediately was set upon by Liam. The rogue had not been idle at all. Since the usurper tried to flee into the darkness, Liam had set traps. As Requiem dove into the shadow, they were assaulted by knives, poison, bear traps woven from liquid darkness, and more. 

Half a heartbeat passed and they stumbled from the dark, a few holes in their reddish skin, already mending again. Then, they twisted violently out of the way of one of Marie’s arrows, which promptly curved back around to a homing mark placed by Ann. It stepped aside once more, only to find Ion waiting there.

Astraeus shone with golden light, and the metal poured outwards, forming a cage. It swung the staff, and a spear of will parried it aside, with Astraeus heading for the heart. The demon promptly grew more hands, woven from darkness, which grabbed onto the spear.

Blood pooled from cuts left on fictional appendages. It was a small manipulation of probability, after all… to mirror the intangible wounds onto their physical form.

Crimson and blackness wove around Astraeus’ tip before the spear was wrenched aside. Ion brought up the other side to parry the follow up, when lances of shadow-fire erupted from the ground, shearing her feet. 

She kneeled, and Matt pressed the offensive, accompanied by more arrows. Reya quickly cast a spell, and Ion’s injuries knitted back together, Divinity flooding her body.

She breathed, and stepped in again. Violence coursed through the song. The war drums beat in her ears. Mana and Qi flashed, barriers appearing, then shattered by an echoing resonance. That was the tricky thing about Echo. It built.

Every hit she took hurt a little more than the last. The Echo built in her body like a cloying residue, slowing her down. But her own song roared in defiance - consumed the foreign invader and ground it to bits. How disgusting that even in combat, the usurpers would do the same thing.

All they did was corrupt and take. To infest. A spreading virus with its only aim being to claim more. 

Ion caught Matt as he was about to crash into the ground, a slice on his forehead tainting the tips of his hair in red. But his eyes were still razor-sharp, focused on the goal. Requiem, the reclaimer, who wove more streaks of dark and cold. It flickered like fire, and lances of it shot towards Reya faster than sound.

The blows exploded the ground, sending dirt and debris flying, but Ann’s barriers stopped most of the damage. Around her, a dozen spell circles flickered in the air, runes weaving and decompressing. The battlefield, slowly, was morphing under her control, smoothing over meteoric craters.

Requiem moved again. It was a horribly fast thing when it wanted to be, and a moment later, it stood before Liam. Still, the rogue was fast, too. He ducked one blow, deflected another - it only tore an inch from his side, rather than his heart out - and then sunk into the shadows. Requiem moved to follow, but Cass wove it into a maze of shifting light, a place where reflections replaced shadows.

A moment later, Astraeus dove through each of those manifested mirrors, a hundred blows from each side. The usurper shattered them with a horrible note from its mouth, bursting Ion’s eardrums, and sending the facsimile of glass splintering. An arrow dug into its skin for half an inch, then fell aside, the wood splintering from the impact.

Marie dashed aside a moment later, barely avoiding a frigid explosion.

Cold mist covered the air. Dark fires flickered amongst the ground, lighting up drifting petals of plum, flickering rainbow magic, and the golden glow of reflections and shattered glass. The landscape around us was reshaping. The clouds in the sky had died and split, the earth vibrated from the sheer power pouring into it, and the air tasted like battery acid.

Ion licked her lips for a moment. Her legs were finally mended enough to walk, so she stepped through the mirror. At once, Requiem faced her and Matt. Spear and sword flew, duplicates forged from Qi and sheer will stabbing and piercing. The demon grew more hands, wielding war-scythes with brutal edges. 

It stabbed and parried, moving at a blistering pace of a crescendo, when all at once, gravity crushed down on them.

A massive magic circle sprawled into existence above the fighting trio, sending them hurtling to the ground in a single violent moment. Rocks cracked and shattered against their bodies, yet the fight went on. The spell shifted, condensed, and turned into a skin-tight field around Requiem.

All at once it slowed down. A dozen cuts caressed its skin, metal and magic digging into it and drawing drops of hissing blood. Red-black and thick, it fell to the ground and pooled like cloying oil. The usurper quickly retreated into the darkness, met with daggers.

It re-emerged, missing an eye, a knife still lodged into it. Liam, for his part, emerged next to Reya, spitting blood, with holes covering his chest. The saintess hitched for a moment, but quickly began her healing, knitting the rogue’s skin back together.

Marie wasted no time, an arrow slamming into the demon from its blind side. It was a brutally heavy one, hitting with enough force to break a mountain, and drove it to the side, head slamming into the ground again, leaving yet another crater. 

A moment later, Ion was upon it with blade and violence, only for its song to shift. The war drums rippled and paused, the rhythm changing as the reclaimer shifted what it was. “This is taking too long,” it snarled. “Let me spill your blood, in turn.”

Requiem, in that moment on the ground, became Conquest. 

The notes changed, drumming and droning with notes of horror. Ion stepped back - and yet, the war scythe cut the air, splitting her stomach and spilling guts. The blow carved through the armor with agonizing slowness, saving her from being cut in half as the gold mended, threads of it stitching the wound closed, but it still hurt.

Matt covered a moment later. His sword danced around the brutal war scythe, even as the pace went from fast to frenetic. Even when the blows were strong enough to pulverize his bones if he blocked them, the warrior fought.

He even laughed. Laughed in the face of brutality, as he turned aside strike after strike. Each could have shattered steel into pieces, split diamond in half, and yet he weathered them like a leaf did a storm. 

The swordsman bent and shifted, dancing through the attacks. He avoided things by a hair’s breadth, the plum blossoms dancing in his steps. He compressed his will on the edge of his sword, and carved through the song. His own brilliant notes spilled from him, a harmonic, beautiful symphony of mastery. Mastery of killing.

With a glint in his eyes, he shifted forward, pivoting into an attack… and the shadows caught his legs. An icicle grew to envelop his lower body, killing his momentum at once, as his foot lagged.

And still, he bent like a reed in the storm, blazingly fast, just enough to avoid a blow to his skull. It impacted a dozen barriers, shattered them, dug through, and slammed into Matt’s shoulder, cutting deep into him.

Bones cracked and broke from the force of the strike, and Conquest grinned with unabated bloodlust. “Die, varmint,” it snarled gleefully. “Feed my song.” It drew to strike again, to kill.

The swordsman vanished.

In a puff of blossoming leaves, he disappeared, moving to their healer’s side. Ion moved in instead, blood and gold mixing in her veins. She shifted like liquid metal, forcefully, inevitably. The movements were graceful, but not quite as much as the swordsman. Yet she was strong. Unbroken. Unyielding.

Bone-crushing blows landed, and were turned aside. Astraeus reinforced her armor, a tide of gold spilling forth to constantly weaken all attacks. It was a little like making the usurper fight underwater. The Qi flooded the area, even as its trickling blood hissed against it, even as the resonance dug into the world.

It was an infectious symphony. Loud and hard, declaring its superiority as world-conquerer. As someone who had taken planets and subjugated them, torn them to their will. It was the power of a divinity, a divinity of song and blood. 

And yet, Ion held.

Her own song was quiet in comparison. Not loud, not brutal, but it ran deep and wide. An ocean of worlds, a tower of small triumphs. It sang of wings, and they spread. It sang of the stars, and the sky shimmered. It sang of friends, of love, and of other selves. Of never giving up… and of relying on others.

Ann changed the tune of the fight. Her own heart beat in tune with that of Ion. The music danced in her magic, masterfully weaving through the runes, and in a single moment, her grand enchantment was complete.

Runic circles turned from dozens to hundreds - duplicating, mirroring. Cass had helped her, and the magic spilled forth.

Mana poured into the world as an endless torrent. Her heartbeat turned so loud it drowned out the blood. Steel sang against steel, but Mana drowned the world. It was liquid power in its purest form, twisted by the absolute perfection that it demanded.

Ion watched as the stars within Ann’s chest blossomed. Her inner nova flared to life as the sky above Neamhan did. She had cast it before, but never this way.

When the sky fell, it was not one or two stars. It was all of them. A torrent of bright, rainbow light. A thousand colours, descending like divine lances, with all the fury and force of meteors. 

One after another dug into the ground. Conquest roared and shifted. It fought, deflected them by the dozen - but then its weapon cracked. Ion still stood, and slammed Astraeus into the barrage, shattering the war-scythe completely, before the darkness could repair it.

Then the first star dug into the usurper’s flesh.

A heartbeat later, it was riddled with a hundred holes.

The magic was violent and brutal. It dug through flesh, and through the ground. Each falling star eradicated the earth for dozens of meters down, turning the ground into a pock-marked hole. It was like watching a section of the world eviscerate in blinding light, simultaneously burning and burying the usurper.

And it continued for an entire minute.

Thousands of stars fell. Perhaps tens of thousands. Each of them violent, each of them concentrated and targeted. Each time Conquest tried to drag itself from the hole, more stars fell. The circles roared, runes burning themselves into the world - then burning themselves out.

When it was all over, Ion’s ears rung. Her eyes stung, streaks of light having burnt themselves into her retinas. It was violence like nothing ever before. 

And then, a hand appeared at the edge of the crater.

Black blood dripped from it. The suit sleeve attached to that hand was blood-stained and torn. But still, Conquest dragged itself out of the hole.

They looked ragged. Riddles with holes and burns. Blood streaked down their face, and one of their arms was missing entirely. Their legs shook, and the ground hissed beneath them. And yet, a shiver ran down Ion’s spine.

Echo poured from those wounds alongside the blood. It stained the world, shed the usurper’s song. It dug its claws into this world, resonating with every drop of magic the gates had spilled. 

Conquest grinned, despite everything. “That hurt, I’ll give you that,” they said. “But I’m not done yet. I’ve a job to complete, see. And I don’t plan to fail.”

And then, in the warped world, infected by itself, Conquest moved. It shifted and tore forwards, crumpling the resistance that would be posed by the world itself. Limitations were shrugged off, and it showed what a true world-conquerer was capable of.

Its hand lashed out, and tore Ion’s heart from her chest.

And despite that, it kept beating. And Ion laughed. Her heart outside her chest, she still laughed. “You know, dying really doesn’t feel too bad when you do it this much. Here, let me show you what presents I’ve brought.” 

With a grin, her skin rippled. Flesh turned to glass, and Ion… Ion became a mirror. 

Chapter 271: Travelling Rocks

Chapter 271: Travelling Rocks

Mercury liked being back on the road. There was just a particular kind of magic to it all. The way that civilization faded and broke away just a few hundred steps out. The way that roads wore away into thin paths maintained only by the steps of those who occasionally crossed them. Seeing things that were so remarkably… untouched. 

Nature was wonderful. This entire world, Chronagen, was something Mercury found dear to him. There was a certain wonder to it, to not knowing what was around another corner.

Oh, sure, he could simply spread his mind wide. He could use the perception-aspect of <Unravel> to see hundreds of meters ahead and around himself. To spot every nook, every cranny, every secret in an instant, or have Appy whisper them all to him. But it was far, far more fun to simply walk.

<Itinerant> was a funny Skill, in that way. After all, it let him travel incredibly quickly if he wanted to. In a way, it would let him skip the entire journey - arrive at his goal with just a step or three. But there was a different aspect to it, too.

The Skill, the evolution itself, was born from the fact that Mercury loved travelling. That he wanted to see the world. So, it was designed to take him further, to let him go wherever, to break boundaries, yes. But it was also designed to let him take it all in. To very gently bend the path and make sure it took him to those spectacuclar sights.

It was funny seeing it in action though. Footpaths writhed and rippled when he stepped forward, adjusting ever so slightly to avoid a particularly pretty patch of flowers. To highlight a grove in the middle of a forest, to take him just a little higher on a mountain ridge so he could enjoy the view.

“Is this meant to be so easy?” Zyl asked once, on their third night of walking.

They’d taken to walking in the night, since risking sun exposure wasn’t exactly fun for Mercury. Oh, sure, he could walk with a parasol, and he absolutely was planning to - it would be incredibly stylish, after all - but for now, less sun exposure probably meant less chances to get cooked later.

He smiled, gently, and nodded. “It is,” he said. 

“And to be so pretty?” Zyl asked, looking into the night. The light bounced off his dragon-eyes, making them glint faintly as he looked forward, slitted pupils piercing the dark and unravelling the sights.

“It is,” Mercury repeated with a brighter smile. “Here, let me show you,” he then said, taking Zyl’s hand in his own. That still felt strange, but he also loved it - to simply hold the dragon’s hand. And then, Mercury stepped off the cliff they’d been on.

Zyl followed a moment later. The two fell, air rapidly rushing them by, and Mercury closed his eyes. He felt the wind pull at his hair, his storm-suit billowing as he soared, but at the same time, he felt space twist and turn. <Itinerant> was still active, pulling at this new thread, at this purpose of the journey, of sightseeing.

And it pulled them away from the cliff. Their bodies didn’t shatter violently upon a jagged row of rocks. Instead, they fell into the canopy below, caught by soft leaves, bending and breaking a few branches before falling down into a clearing, carpeted with foliage.

The ground was soft against them. Even granite would break before either of the two got hurt, but it was still nice to land on spongy earth. Mercury promptly got up, dusted himself off, and took a look around, finding that they stood near a pond. A pond that glittered with starlight.

For a moment, Zyl groaned slightly as he got up, holding his head with a sigh. “Come on, there’s no way you got something to show me he- Oh.” He cut himself off as he took the time to look, his breath hitching. The pond glittered under the stars. Fireflies faintly danced through the air above it, sending glittering reflections across the waves.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mercury hummed, kneeling down next to the lake, reaching his hand in. It glowed more strongly at the ripples, a faint glow trailing the movements he made. 

Zyl sighed, then kneeled down next to the mopaaw, letting his arms rest on his knees as he stared at the pond. “Yes, it is,” he admitted. His words were slightly begrudging, but his lips carried an easy smile. 

Something floated to the top of the lake. They were called starlings - tiny pinpricks of light that hatched into almost fireflies, except they glowed a pale white-blue and were a bit bigger. More like dragonflies really. 

Mercury watched them fly over, keeping a small barrier of <Rainfall> around himself to make sure none of the insects touched him, gently keeping them away. Would he enjoy travelling if he had to deal with all the dirt and grime of it? Probably less.

Right now, he could simply have anything he didn’t want touching him disappear. He had a multitude of Skills to make it all happen, to interact with the world and make the journey pleasant. To see wonderful, breathtaking sights, without any of the trouble. Hecc, he could probably watch a star explode and recover from the radiation without too much trouble.

Actually, now that he thought about it, a little test with a nuke was starting to sound interesting again. By now, he’d give himself rather good odds…

With a small sigh, he shook his head, waving away those thoughts. No need for that. Instead, he spent a few more minutes watching the congregations of newly minted magical insects take to the skies. Then, the glow from the lake subsided, and it turned as clear as a mirror.

In fact, it turned into solid glass. Mercury had to use <Material Transmutation> to take his hand out without shattering it, quickly turning the surface liquid, and then solid again once he was done. Then, he and Zyl got up, and walked some more

- - -

Travelling on foot was meant to be a long ordeal. Really, they could have flown or teleported there and it would have been far faster, but Mercury didn’t really see any need to hurry. Still, <Itinerant> did cut through the duration of the journey. It made it so that they didn’t skip anything, of course, and even probably condensed the fun events, but it did skip much of the drudgery along main roads.

Mercury mostly avoided those, though, occasionally his Skill led them there. Each time was for a specific event, though, and rarely did it feel pointless. Once, he repaired a merchant’s wagon, shaping a new wheel from a nearby tree to replace the broken one, getting a small chest of delicious fruit as thanks. Another time, there was a camp of freezing travellers who’d run out of firemaking supplies - a problem Zyl handily solved for them, and they shared stories and food afterwards.

Now, once again, Mercury emerged from a dense bit of forest onto the main road. A wide path, laid with stones, long tread into the dirt. The weeds there were struggling for their life, trampled underfoot each day, but they fought a valiant fight. At this moment, though, they were receiving a good bit of nutrition.

Blood dripped from a man’s open side. He held the gash with a grimace, a brigand with a balding hat and a greasy ponytail sneering at the guy. The guy was walking with a heavy pack, which was set aside on the ground, and an empty sword-sheath hung at his belt.

“See, this is what you get for not paying the toll, bastard,” the brigand said, leaning his sword on his shoulder with a grin. “This is territory of Jean Rocksplitter, don’t’cha knooow~?”

“You bastards,” the man ground out, panting as blood stained his night-blue robes. He had short, dark hair, and hazel eyes, as well as a slim nose. “I will never pay the tithe of bloodmongers like you,” he spat.

“Heeeeh?” the bandit hummed in thought, turning to his burly companion. “What do you think then, Brocky? Shall we pick it off his corpse?”

The hulking man with a distinctly spiky hairstyle nodded solemnly. “Smash his bones, grab his stuff.”

Mercury walked up to the bleeding man and squatted down next to the wound, staring at it. “Nasty gash you got there,” he said, eyeing the cut. “You should lay down. I’ll stitch you back up.” With a swift mental command, he summoned his log, which didn’t look very special, but was in fact packed full of supplies.

After all, <Medicine> had maxed out and then been absorbed into <Unravel>, being boosted with all the potency of a high-power Skill. Mercury was a reasonably competent medic these days, and he could probably even extend <Shift> to others. Not that he’d tried much.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Ponytail said, as he walked up, pointing his sword at Mercury in a lazy, aloof motion. “White robe… black pants… ey, unc, what sect are you from?”

“... Unc?” Mercury hummed curiously. He smiled gently at the title, then shook his head. “No, only my niece gets to call me that. Pick a different term,” he said gently, then pulled out a needle and thread. “Lay down,” he repeated to the hurt man.

At that, Ponytail frowned. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, leaning in. “Maybe you don’t know how things work here, but y’see, this is-”

Zyl sighed, appearing between them, making the bandit flinch back for a moment. “Rockbreaker territory, yes, yes. I take it you’re Jean?” the dragon asked, crossing his arms.

Ponytail took a single step back, eyeing Zyl’s feet as if trying to figure something out. “Phantom step…?” he muttered. “No, it can’t be,” he shook his head. “And I’m not Jean. Rockbreaker’s the boss, see. I’m Lucky and my friend here is Brock. We’re members of the band. So pay up, or we’ll call the boss in to smash your skulls.”

The dragon tilted his head. “Really? Smash my skull?”

“Like watermelon,” Brock nodded solemnly, motioning an explosion with his hand. “Splat,” he intoned helpfully.

It brought a wily smile to Zyl’s lips, even as Mercury finally managed to get the traveller to lay down. The man was still looking on with a confused expression, but when Mercury’s needle passed into his flesh, he felt no pain. It was as if the discomfort was washed away, as if his pain had all been a falsehood… a <Lie>.

The person who looked not quite human smiled gently at the wounded traveller. “There,” he said kindly. “All patched up. Your skin is mended, but your flesh needs to recuperate. Give it a few days, then do regular stretches for a week or three to properly rehabilitate your motion. In about two weeks, you should be almost good as new,” he said.

Blinking rapidly at the change of pace, the once-wounded man moved to kneel. “Thank you, saviour!” he said swiftly, trying to press his head to the ground. “How can this unworthy one-!”

“Now now, none of that,” Mercury chided gently. Again, the traveller blinked, as an invisible force wrapped around him, placed him back on his feet, and Mercury gently brushed the dirt off his robes. “Haven’t learned much sewing yet, so can’t do much for your outfit, sorry,” he said calmly.

A million thoughts ran through the healed man’s head. The invisible force… it meant that this man was at least a gilded-level cultivator! And the phantom step of his companion, that was a polished-level technique! These two were cultivators, and powerful ones at that.

Ponytail, meanwhile, seemed to not quite make that same assumption. He simply sneered. “Oi, oi,” he said. “You’re not getting off that easy. Show us some face, will you? We maintain the roads here, y’know? Make sure things go nice ‘n clean, travellers get through…”

“Bullshit!” the man in blue yelled. “You butcher caravans! Every year, the road grows more dilapidated and the toll higher! I’ve seen what you’ve done to the merchants.”

The bandit’s eyes narrowed in anger. “Huuuh? Got a problem with our tithe? What, men can’t make an honorable living as a patrol anymore?”

Mercury got up, looked at the two bandits, and gave them a light smile. “You two are strong, young men, yes?” he said with a smile.

“Huh? Are you talking, old bag? Sorry, I can’t hear your grating voice over this wind,” he said, looking at the sky.

“Oh, really now? Well, I don’t mind repeating myself,” Mercury said graciously, clasping his hands behind his back. “You two are strong, young men,” he repeated, giving a gentle smile. Then, his features pulled a little tighter. “So, why don’t you go and make something proper out of yourself, hm? Robbing people like this is for cowards and weaklings. You could be building houses instead of stabbing some random sods on the road.”

Lucky frowned deeply, and elbowed Brock in response. “Hey, big bud. Let’s teach that old man a lesson, huh? Thinks he’s so much better than us. Let’s show him what we got,” he said, grinning grimly, slowly levelling his sword at Mercury.

With a grunt, Brock smacked his fists together, producing a loud clang. His hands were covered in steel gauntlets, and he took a single, slow, menacing step forward. Then, Lucky stomped the ground.

Instantly, the rocks beneath Mercury rose to envelop his feet, tendrils of stone weaving around him, holding him in place. Half a breath later, Brock was upon him, Zyl’s eyes following his movement with faint amusement. The big lug dashed, far faster than his size implied, and smashed a hook right into Mercury’s face.

Mercury’s face, which was made from magical wood, enhanced by his vitality stat, and by <Tempered Body>.

There was a resounding clang, the noise of metal striking against metal, and a humming noise that could only come from lasting vibrations. The bandit’s fist remained against Mercury’s face for a moment… then the gauntlet shook. And crumbled.

Flakes of iron fell off Brock’s hand, slowly tumbling to the floor. The road was silent except from the slow chittering of the falling debris. Then, the bandit howled in pain. His knees buckled, as his broken knuckles revealed themselves, utterly shattered from the force of the blow.

“Ah, sorry,” Mercury said. “I’ve been told I’m a bit hardheaded. Here, let me see that,” he said gently, casting <Shift> again. 

The pain lasted for a breath longer, then sloughed off him like dirt in a rainstorm. Brock just kind of stared at his hand blankly as the pain subsided, and the bones beneath his skin shifted a little. Fragments reassembled themselves, and muscles knit together, all flowing to their proper place.

Mercury hummed in displeasure. “You’ll still need to let it heal,” he said thoughtfully. “I’d recommend wearing a splint or a brace, if you can find one. Go to a real healer, get someone to mend you. Don’t move your hand, or it’ll all fall out of alignment again. You’re tough, so you’ll be fine.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Lucky demanded, more guarded now. The bandit grit his teeth, holding his sword out in front of him, sweat dripping from his brow. He seemed a little terrified now. “What did you do to him?!”

Tilting his head, Mercury replied simply. “I set his bones. He fractured his knuckles on my face.”

More blood drained from Lucky’s face at that. “... Huh?” he asked, quietly, shellshocked. 

“Put that toothpick aside, now,” Zyl said and reached out very gently, closed his hand around the blade of the sword, and then squeezed. The steel bent, then shattered in his grip, not even splitting his skin. “And stop calling my boyfriend old. He’s just got silver hair, not greying.”

In comparison, Lucky’s rat-brown hair was rapidly turning greyer as time went on. The fear was aging him quickly. “Brock…” he whispered, stepping forward, then back again, as if stuck in a quagmire. Then he watched as Mercury easily pulled his feet free from the literal stone wrapped around them, in a motion as casual as standing up from a chair.

He stretched his arms above his back, letting out a small yawn. “Hey, hey. You gonna call your boss?” he asked.

Lucky paled some more, then hastily swallowed, and nodded grimly. Hopefully, the boss would be able to salvage it… With a quick motion, he pulled a paper talisman. A quick injection of qi set it on fire, sending out a signal flare.

Mercury only had to wait half a minute until a woman stomped from the treeline - massive and built like a semitruck. She had wild, brown-grey hair, and a long scar reaching from her forehead down to her shoulder, wore ragged, torn red-brown robes, and dragged a giant stone club behind her, leaving a furrow in the ground as she lumbered over.

“Lucky,” she growled, eyeing Zyl, Mercury, and the recently injured traveller. “This better have a good reason, or I’ll bash your skull in.” Her voice came out calm and measured, but her glare was anything but.

“Y-yes boss!” the bandit stuttered hastily. “Somehow, the old man laid out Brock without touching him!”

“Huuuuh?” Jean asked, eyeing Mercury once more, looking him up and down. “He ain’t old, moron. Just a year or two on me. Is it just the hair?” she asked.

“Probably just the hair, yes,” Mercury nodded calmly.

“Mmmh. The silver-white does look old, I guess. But you got no folds on you, and you don’t talk like a geezer. How’d you hurt my boys?” she asked, lugging the club onto her shoulder.

Mercury smiled politely. “He punched my face and broke his hand. I put it back together for him,” he said.

“No fecking way,” she sneered. “Those gloves are made from moonsteel, folded three hundred times. They wouldn’t shatter against flesh. You some kind of body cultivator?” she asked. “Nah, you don’t look the type. Too scrawny. See, I cultivate these muscles,” she said with a grin, “and so, I intend to use ‘em. Hand over the tithe, double for any damages done, and we’ll part way in good faith.”

“And if I don’t?” Mercury asked, tilting his head again and shooting the lady a curious look.

“I’ll smash ya head in,” Jean said with a wild grin, showing rows or sharp teeth. “Cave it in like a boulder.”

The traveller swallowed heavily, pulling at Mercury’s sleeve. “Saviour,” he hissed urgently, “please, let’s just pay the tithe. Jean is not known for mercy…”

With a quick motion, Mercury dislodged the man’s hand, stepping forward, still keeping his posture upright and calm. “Go ahead then,” he taunted calmly. “Smash my head in.”

Jean rubbed her face for a moment, giving a long sigh. “Haaaah. Cocky bastards like you are the saddest. You always act like hot shit, then break like the rest. Whelp, I got a reputation to uphold, y’see. Nothing personal. Let me give you a pretty blood splatter, at least,” she said calmly, then vanished, phantom-stepping forward.

A blink later she was in front of Mercury, already in motion. The giant hunk of stone she generously called a club was swinging towards him, rapidly accelerating with all the certainty of a falling mountain, ready to reduce his entire body to a bloody smear on the ground.

And then he looked.

Time slowed down to a crawl, almost stopping as Mercury delved into his own mind. His perception sped up to an ungodly degree, the world freezing around him. He couldn’t move, of course, but he didn’t need to.

All he needed to do was to know. To see and to understand. So, he sunk into ihn’ar. He let his sight encompass the club in its totality. He drew a million links in a moment, following threads on the tapestry. He knew it should be possible to pull it off, so it worked.

Before now, Mercury had manipulated stone. <Grass> and <Metal> both allowed him some dominion over it, but he wanted more than that. He wanted more. So he looked at the stone, the solidity it exuded, the veins in it, the brittleness. Monolithic, unchanging, eroding, settling, recombining. It was ancient and new, housing history in veins of calcified time.

A minute passed, then two as he stared, the woman in front of him barely moving. Her club was approaching him in slow motion, drawing an arc through the air that was almost beautiful, her qi threading through the weapon, holding it together.

In the end, that was what he spotted, the weak point and strength he saw. She was empowering the rock to make it hold, or it would break, because it was too brittle. It needed support, veins of flexible, reinforcing power. Because rocks didn’t like to bend, most of the time. They were solid, unchanging… and a little bit like his annoying old boss at work.

He smiled a little at the thought. Rock was like stubborn old people, then? Was that his conclusion? If so, he knew how to talk to them, how to make requests. If that was how rocks ticked… he could handle them.

[The individual has acquired the ability <Stone (lowest)> through a specific action.]

[<Perceived Ease> has levelled up! <Perceived Ease lv. 4 -> 5>]

Immediately, time resumed. Mercury’s mind settled, his eyes lost that depth of madness, he resurfaced from his delve into ihn’ar. But he looked at the stone coming his way. Almost lazily, he whispered his request. “Break,” Mercury said.

And the stone shattered. 

Violently, horribly, the block of rock that had threatened to squash his head in exploded into a million tiny shards. They shot outwards like shrapnel from a grenade, cutting thin lines of blood into Jean’s skin. They dug into the grass, skidded off the pathway, and a handful embedded themselves into the traveller’s pack.

The bandit howled as she completed her swing, clearly expecting the impact. She grinned, even gave a laugh, as if her swing had been what shattered the club. She looked at the handle, still clasped in her hand. “Don’t call me rockbreaker for nothing,” she said with a grin. “Shame about the guy. ‘S what happens to arrogant bastards, I s’pose.”

“I’m very much alive,” Mercury noted, drawing her eyes to him.

“Huh?” Jean said, looking at him. She paused for a second, drawing in a sharp breath, then blinked, and even rubbed her eyes as if to clear her vision. Then, she looked at her shattered club. Then back to Mercury. “... huh?” she repeated, blood draining from her face.

“You must have missed,” he said gently, giving her a patient smile. “Wanna try again?”

Jean blinked, then very, very slowly shook her head. “No, sir,” she said placidly.

Mercury scratched his beard a little, and even that small motion made her flinch. “Right, right,” he said. “You use stone qi, then, Ms. Rockbreaker?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Hmmmmm,” he hummed, eyeing the bandits. Lucky and Brock stood with their mouth agape, legs trembling in fear, Zyl holding both men upright by their shoulders with a smug smile. The nameless traveller hid behind his pack, shell-shocked. Mercury simply smiled. “Well, then, Jean. Would you be so kind as to guide us to the nearest town? You must know these roads quite well.”

Instantly, the bandit stood at attention, giving a martial salute. “Yes, sir!” she said, the words coming as naturally as lightning.

With a faint smile, Mercury nodded. “Right then. And while there, we’ll get you and the rest of your band signed up for a construction company. You brats stand to make an honorable living yet. Don’t throw your lives away for a quick buck.”

“... Yes, sir,” Jean said, gritting her teeth slightly.

“But, boss-” Lucky started for all of a moment, before Jean shot him a glare that could have killed. He shut his mouth a moment later, and Zyl gently pushed the two men onward.

“Let’s go then,” the dragon said chipperly. “Lead the way, ma’am.”

Jean swallowed heavily, but simply nodded, quickly stepping out in front of them and walking further down the path. In the meantime, Zyl picked up the traveller’s pack, easily slinging it around his shoulders, as if the taller-than-human stack of merchandise weighed as much as a feather. 

In doing so, of course, he revealed the cowering traveller kneeling behind it, his blue robes now stained with a bit of dirt, his eyes darting between Mercury and Zyl. The dragon extended a hand to the man. “Come now, let me help you up,” he said. “What’s your name, traveller.”

Quickly, the man scrabbled to his feet without any help, cupping his hands and bowing his head. “This one is called Min, honored saviours!” he said, half-shouting the words. “I thank you very much for your assistance! This one is unworthy!”

Mercury let out a chuckle, patting the man on the back. “Now, now, no need to be so formal,” he said. “I’m Mercury, and my boyfriend with your pack there is Zyl. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Would you like to come with us back to town? We could use a local guide,” he said. 

“Of course, saviours! To repay this debt-”

Quickly, Zyl waved him off. “Ah, please don’t do that,” the dragon said hastily, giving a glance at Mercury, already looking annoyed. “No need for the saviour-shtick. Or any debt. You’re free to go. Nothing owed.”

At that, the man shivered. He knew what it meant. To these seniors, his life was nothing. They could save it as easily as taking a breath, and snuff it out as easily as a candleflame. He was less than dust to them. He was not even worthy to honor them.

So, yes, his debt was forgiven. Perhaps they would not even remember him, but. But! He was a merchant, damn it! And where there was power, there was opportunity! In his innermost heart, Min fanned those flames of bravery… and desire for wealth. To prove himself in this world, he would follow these old monsters! 

“Of course, saviour Zyl,” he said hastily, being just respectful enough to preserve his own honour, without pushing it further than he thought he could get away with. “Let this humble merchant show you around. A shrewd fox knows the best places in town, after all!” he said, giving a hearty laugh. “Onward we shall go, to Fuchsia City!”

Mercury leaned over to Zyl, already tired. “If he calls me saviour one more time, I might die on the spot,” the mopaaw whispered.

Zyl gently pressed a kiss on the side of his head. “Then, my love, I fear I may have to arrange your funeral. I will mourn you very much.”

At that, his boyfriend gave a snicker. “You dummy. Hopefully we can find some hints in this city.” Then he looked to the sky. “Also, dawn is approaching. Care to hand me my parasol?” 

With a quick flourish, the dragon brought it forth from his inventory, opening the pure-white fabric that hung downwards at the edges like a veil, and handing it to Mercury. “We should get you a hat, too,” he suggested.

“A hat!” Min chimed in. “Yes, I know a hatter. My cousin’s wife, in fact, runs a hattery in Fuchsia City! You see-”

And, suddenly having found the breath of life within him at the mundaneity of walking, Min talked. Mercury, despite himself, smiled just a little, looking at the horizon. A new place to see… he expected it might be fun. He ought to pay Daryel a visit, too. And, of course, he was excited to see what magic awaited him there.

So much to see. “Onto Fuchsia City, then,” he said, under his breath.

Chapter 169: Backup Plan

Olivia was not a good person. She knew that about herself. She was vain, she was brash, she had a horrid temper, and she didn’t care much for other people.

But she had grown. 

Worth. That was her covenant, her creed, the thing that drove her every action. Worth. To be worth something. To do things that matter. To change life for someone.

Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her arm. It still ached, from time to time. The hand she’d lost on Eden having its repercussions here. It felt numb faster, especially when it got cold - though as she grew that disappeared. And with the song lacing her blood, it felt dimmer.

The song. It had changed her, too, made her more real. The connections to the world felt closer, and reality seemed less… distant. Less apart from who she was. Her choices were a little less clinical. But despite that, she still yearned to be worth something.

She’d helped, of course. Spied on Zinnic. Helped Dawn of Ambition close the gates quickly enough. She’d lent her talents, her swords to them, she’d learnt in exchange, and she’d grown. Terribly quickly, she’d grown, but it was not enough.

There was a hunger within her. A hunger to prove herself, to do something that really mattered. To change the direction of something forever. She’d found that worth in killing before. Cutting something off changed it forever, after all. It had impact.

Her hands clenched into fists as the elevator dinged and she stepped out, taking a deep breath of the smoggy air. It was better, but still stank like shit. The city was damp, dark, and cloyed with refuse. 

And she worked for the shittiest place in town. 

Rich, new CEO of not-Zinnic, hadn’t bothered to fire her. Her cooperation with Fio was so obvious after the gate fiasco it was pathetic. He must have known, and yet, she was still working there as an enforcer. To do their bidding when needed, still fed insider information.

Sometimes, Olivia wondered why. Her intel was limited, but she was kind of the strongest person with Zinnic these days. The only remaining member at wellspring or above. Especially with the song lacing her bones.

But she truly didn’t understand why Rich didn’t fire her. He even hated when she called him that. “Mr. Terril” would’ve been the appropriate thing to use. Olivia’s lips twisted into a vicious smirk.

It would have been appropriate, but she’d never use it.

The elevator dinged one final time, and she stepped outside. She was at the very top of the building, in an office that belonged to one of the richest men on the planet. Someone who should have been powerful. Someone who sat at a desk that had his father’s blood cleaned off it. Someone who should have been worth something. 

“What’s up, Rich?” Olivia asked, eyeing the hunched over, drained figure sitting at the chair.

“Ah, Mrs. Tyrdin,” he greeted her, barely raising his head. Riach had deep bags under his eyes. He looked so tired. He slouched in his chair, and his hair was dishevelled. And yet, when he looked at her, today, she saw something different. “It’s a pleasure to have you here again. Today, I have a special job for you,” he said, dragging a hair through his messy, blonde hair.

He was pretty, once, but stress had worn him down. Now, he was too haggard and had lost some of that shine. Handsome features gave ways to thin, frail ones. Hopeless.

And yet, Olivia couldn’t shake the thought that he looked good at that moment. She stared into his eyes. “What is it, Rich?” she asked, unceremoniously.

“Enforcer work,” he said, casually waving a hand. “A typical mission. Take a hostage. Hold her in place until someone gives to demands. The board,” he spat the word like it was an insult, “demands it.”

The board. There were two meanings for that. One was the mix of old, rich bastards who wanted to get more money and used Rich as a puppet to get it. The other was… the mix of old, rich, alien bastards who wanted more power and used Rich as a literal puppet to get it.

She’d seen it, once, the strings forcing him to sign something he did not want to. But the fire in him wasn’t extinguished. Looking at him, she saw it. They’d tried to break him, but he wasn't broken. In fact, he looked like he’d found himself.

And then it clicked. All at once, she understood. He knew.

Of course he knew. He knew that she was working with Fio. He knew that she wasn’t some kind of subordinate to command around. He knew she was leaking things, and he’d been quietly feeding her that intel since becoming CEO. And now, he was doing it again.

The board didn’t know. Somehow, they’d chalked everything up to coincidence. To them, she was inconsequential. Just another wellspring cultivator, who cared if she kept it after the incident? Maybe she was just a coward, or pathetic. But she was weak enough to go unnoticed. Uncared for.

She was discarded as worthless. And now, she’d make them pay. A vicious grin spread across her lips.

“Who’s the target?” Olivia asked.

“A little girl,” Rich said, calmly. “Aged between six and fourteen, dark hair, emerald eyes. Name is Bethany Bellum. Her location should already be marked on your comms.”

He rattled off the information all business-like, but Olivia was smarter than that. She saw how he ground his teeth. This was a man who’d committed atrocities. Who’d been a replacement for the world’s most cruel tyrant, and found himself forced to fill those shoes. A man who wasn’t good, in fact, he was kind of an asshole. Just like her.

But he wasn’t a killer. And despite being broken, he rebelled. She respected that.

Olivia smiled politely and nodded. “It will be done,” she said, then swiftly spun around on her heel, and headed to the elevator. 

- - -

Beth looked at the sky with wide eyes, pointing up. “Miss Olivia!” she said excitedly. “There’s a second sun!”

Very gently, the ex-mercenary covered the kid’s eyes. “Don’t look directly at that,” she chided gently. “You’ll hurt your eyes.” Only when the brat turned away did she take her hand off the kid’s face, letting Beth resume her hungry war against a cone of ice-cream. 

With a faint smile playing on her lips, Olivia brought the communicator to her lips. “Target secured,” she spoke into the watch, grinning at the fact. Then, she brought Beth to the cafe, sitting down across from Agatha, who gave Beth a stern look for a moment, opened her mouth to chide her for eating un-ladylike, then sighed and let it go, simply drinking her coffee.

Olivia felt good, for once. It was a small part she played, but an integral part nonetheless. In a way, today, she’d proven her worth. She’d done her part in what it took to save a world. And sometimes, that meant buying ice cream for kids, apparently.

She found it a nice thought

- - -

Ivan sat on a hospital bed next to his father, Lars Desum. The two were similar, though Ivan was of smaller frame. Fio had picked up all the muscle in the family, and Ivan had been more of a bookish person, taking after their mom.

He felt a little twitchy, itching for a smoke, but held back, opting to take deep breaths instead. He was trying to quit, to be a good example for their dad. The Mana circling his heart helped with the symptoms - two circles now. Nowhere near the five Ann had, or the four that surrounded Marie’s heart, but enough for small spells and alchemy. He was proud of his growth.

“I’m sorry to make you wait it out like this,” Rae said.

Fio’s brother gave the older man a long look. He had a kindly face, but those smile-lines were new additions. For years, decades, Rae must have been someone who frowned much. And right now, he frowned a little as he spoke.

“It’s quite alright,” Ivan said with a smile. “You’re the one doing us a favour.”

The old man scoffed at that. “No. I’m being done a favour. They’re keeping me from fighting on purpose. My dear disciple cares for me, after all.” At Fio’s mention, the lines in his fsce softened, faintly.

Lars stirred. He was still hurt, but recovering well. The fire burned brightly in his chest. Not as brightly as the song thrummed in Ivan, but brightly nonetheless. Perhaps, if he was worthy of getting called a father again, Fio might add him to the network. Perhaps she wouldn’t.

“You know my daughter,” the bear of a man said, his voice hoarse and thin.

Rae looked at him for a long moment, with a mix of disappointment and respect. Ivan simply observed. “I do,” the older man said, crossing his arms, spear held in the crook of his armpit. “What about her?”

“You probably know her better than me,” Lars said quietly. Ivan sighed softly. Today was a wallowing day, then. “Tell me about her,” the new cultivator requested.

That surprised Ivan. His eyes widened faintly, and it brought a small smile to his dad’s face. Perhaps it wasn’t a wallowing day, after all.

The old spearmaster gave the wreck of a man a long look, then sighed. “Your daughter is strong,” he said. “That’s the first thing to say about her. She’s strong. Tough as nails. But also kind and caring. Sometimes too hard on herself. Sometimes too hasty, or even almost naive. But she sees the good in people,” he said. “The good in people who don’t deserve second chances.”

Those last words were spoken quietly, but they resonated with Lars. Ivan saw in how the older man stirred, nodding quietly. His eyes closed, Lars spoke from the hospital bed. “She’s… the best thing to ever happen to me, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Rae nodded. “You are becoming a better person for her. That you can be proud of.”

“Proud?” Lars scoffed. “I don’t think-”

There was a whip-crack noise as Rae punched someone else. He opened the door, knocked someone out cold, then closed it again in the blink of an eye. Then he leaned against it casually, another Zinnic agent unconscious outside. He fixed Lars in his gaze, cold, uncaring, and wise.

He nodded. “Yeah, you don’t deserve to be proud. We all know. And yet, you must be. You have sinned, Lars Desum. You have hurt someone you should never have hurt.” The hospital patient flinched at the harsh accusation, but it was true, so he did not refuse it. “But you must look forward. I am here to keep you safe, because despite everything, Fio cares. So, take pride in your worth. Take pride in your growth. Accept your flaws, and grow past them. No excuses, no wallowing, no… self-pitying apologies,” he said the last part with a smile.

“I dunno if I can do that,” Lars said quietly.

“There is no belief needed for it,” Rae chided gently. “You simply do it. You become better. Have some faith, and move forward.”

Ivan squeezed his dad’s hand when the old spearmaster was finished. Lars wanted to say something again, but his son gently shook his head. “Take it in, dad,” he said quietly. “You can still do right by your family.”

Lars looked at his son, and squeezed back as if his hand was a lifeline. There were tears crinkling in his eyes again. They were right, both of them. He could do this. He could move forward, and be someone worthy to spend time with again. 

And the first step to that was… staying safe. 

Resoling himself once more, Lars closed his eyes. The fire burned in his chest, swelling gently again as he cast more regrets into the flames. He breathed, and heard another smacking sound as one more cultivator was smacked by Rae. 

He breathed in, then out. And eventually, he managed a thin smile. He didn’t move, not even a little bit, because for once he understood clearly what he needed to do. And that was to let his daughter be the hero she was.

- - -

“Bethany Bellum has been taken into custody by one Olivia Tyrdin,” Requiem said with a sneer, and I burst out laughing at the same time as Ion did. 

The laughter resonated in Eden as it did on Neamhan. Loud, hilarity-infused gasps for air as I couldn’t stop myself. It was just too funny. “Hah! Hahaha! Can you… can you say that again?”

Requiem frowned, clearly annoyed by the outburst. “Your sister, your family, is in custody of the enforcer Olivia Tyrdin,” they repeated.

Liam cracked a smile, Ann snickered and Matt cackled. Even Marie gave a chuckle, and Reya a grin. They all stared up at the sky. 

“That’s the biggest mistake, isn’t it?” Matt asked, casually holding his sword on his shoulder, enjoying the wind on his face. “They always forget that people have choices. And that people given a choice, will usually try to pick freedom.”

The frown on the usurper’s face deepened. Black mist spilled forth from them, eating at the air, making the water in the atmosphere condense and freeze. It fit in just fine with the smog in the sky, really. “Why are you so relaxed? I am threatening to kill your family.”

“It’s simple, really,” Ion said. “Beth is safe.”

“Safe?” the demon sneered. “She will die if I give the command.”

Ion shook her head. “No, she won’t.”

“Yes she will!”

“No she won’t.”

The ridiculous game of back and forth clearly pissed Requiem off more. It scowled hatefully, and sent a magical missive to one Richard Terril. “Have the hostage’s finger cut off,” they demanded.

There was a short pause, but the demon frowned more as the response didn’t satisfy it. “What do you mean your enforcer refuses? She’s a tool to be used and should do her job! Tell the puppeteer to- what?! They can’t infest her?” With each word, the demon’s face hung open further. It was somewhat amusing to see it, the way it was one half of a corporate phone call. It was also buying us time.

“No, you cannot be serious. You incompetent imbecile. I will have your head for this. You are a tool, you are meant to obey. No, no- You don’t get to speak to me in that tone! Calm yourself this instant or- Impudent human! I- No! I don’t even have those orifices! Don’t you dare!” 

And then, the line cut.

Requiem blinked, staring at Ion standing in mid air. “Sorry,” she said, “but I owed him for this one. I think he might not be your puppet anymore.”

“You,” the usurper snarled. “I will kill you. I will rip open your throat and spill your frozen blood on this planet. I will butcher your family in front of your corpse. I will stain your graves and spread my vile symphony on this planet. I will defile your home and make it into a nest for the vilest of worms, bottom-feeding trash they are, and I will feed your bodies to them until you return to the soil so you may do something worthwhile for once in your life,” it said.

“Someone’s angry,” Marie teased. 

A vein on Requiem’s forehead almost popped. It gnashed its teeth, stomping the air with powerful bursts or chilling darkness and hatred. “You wretched, pathetic humans. I will see you dead and kneeling. I am divine to you, you miserable curs. You-”

“Yeah, yeah, I used to be divine too,” Ann said, interrupting the tirade. “But you know what I have that you lack?” she asked, smiling pleasantly.

“What?” the thing snarled.

“Time management skills. Don’t have a phone call when fighting a mage, moron. Legacy: Starfall.”

Ann cast her spell, and the sky itself descended. The Nova within mine and Ion’s chest flared at the same time. The usurpers had played their cards, and they’d come up empty. Now it was time to turn the tide, properly.

Chapter 168: End of the Line

There is something truly unsettling about seeing one’s home break down. 

I’d not lived in the guildhouse with the others for very long. Just a few months. It was getting close to a year now. We’d begun to prep for a small celebration. Nothing big, just a movie evening. We could afford it without trouble.

Now, the TV laid in a head of rubble. The windows had all shattered. Shelves hung open, doors barely hanging on. It wasn’t just the earthquake, it was the person causing it. The oppressive, horrid weight that the frog-demon had.

It walked inside, the door falling off its broken hinges, adjusting the tie on its suit, loosening it a little as if coming into a casual business meeting. Its eyes drifted through the room for a moment, before landing on Ion. The goat-pupils narrowed, and it grinned a wide smile, full of teeth, as it stepped forward.

Underneath its feet, the ground shattered. Floorboards broke and gave way to a cracked foundation of stone. There was an echoing noise to those cracks, and a moment later, the demon was right in front of my alternate self. It looked up at her - since it wasn’t particularly tall - but that didn’t stop it from being intimidated.

“You’re the priority target,” it said languidly. “I’ve been tasked to eliminate any copies of dimensional entity ‘Jailbreaker’. I’d say nothing personal, kid, but…” it grinned wider. “We’ll, I’d call what we have really rather personal.”

Then, it stabbed forward.

A blow that was so quick the world shuddered. It created a sonic boom that made the walls shake, a blow coated with the echoing resonance of a discordant melody. A haunting noise almost like a scream - and it met empty air.

Ion stood further away. Wings spread behind her back, drops of liquid gold interlaced with bands of song. She was panting, mouth slightly open, a drop of sweat beading in her face. There was a hole in her shirt, and blood pooled from it, but the cut on her stomach was shallow. A thin, frail thing, already healing.

The demon scowled. “Fast,” it said. “Come, now, designated target. Let’s not drag this out for longer than it-”

Ann moved before it finished. The earth split open, writing pillars of it growing to encase the demons. Clouds gathered in the sky, lightning cracking down. Fire spilled from the heavens, setting the air ablaze, turning breathable oxygen into violently hot plasma. It was a torrent of destruction so swift and brutal it splintered what remained of the house.

Walls crumbled, one after another. The pantry caught fire. Food burnt to ash in moments. The foundation cracked and caved in on itself. The ceiling fell down on Ion’s head… and no one even cared. They all brushed off tons of wood and stone, glass and steel without so much as a hair out of place.

And in the centre, a step aside from the pillar of destruction Ann had wrought, a few steps offset from molten glass and a glimmering heat-haze stood the usurper. It dusted off its suit. “Now, that’s no way to talk,” it frowned. “Let’s start over, please. Designted target, if you just surrender yourself…”

“Not happening,” Matt interrupted. He crawled from the rubble in his pajamas, loose jogging pants, and a shirt with a rabbit on it. They were torn and ragged, and dust nestled in his brown hair, but he still rose like a phoenix from the ashes. Sword intent spilled off him in cutting waves, and the air hummed the song of blades just from standing near him. “What’s your name?” he asked the usurper.

It tilted its head. “Name?” it asked, then scoffed. “I have no need for a name. My designated identity is Requisitioner. It used to be conquerer,” it said, lips twisting into a mean scowl, “yet there was some trouble with that, you understand. However, if you must insist, please do call me… Requiem.”

With its ‘designated identity’ given, the demon actually gave a bow, placing a hand above its heart. It would have been easy to mistake it for a butler, but it was not. When it rose again, all three of its fingers were phasing through the suit, reaching within its chest, withdrawing  a war-scythe.

Matt looked at the weapon, then back at Requiem’s grinning face. He took a deep breath, held out his hand, and a storm of petals coalesced a sword in his hands. The smell of plum blossoms spread from him, and he held the blade forward, tip pointed at the usurper. “May you find value in your death,” Matt said coldly.

Requiem barked out a laugh, and moved. The world ground against it, pulled and twisted as the demon disappeared. It was fast, horribly, blazingly fast, to the point where each movement was like a minor bomb going off - but Matt matched it. 

Ion could hear it. The song thrumming through his blood. The drums of war beating. She shifted smoothly, taking a step to the side. The war scythe lashed out - first at Matt, carving an arc through the air at his head, only to be deflected. The back end, cloaked in black flame, brushed by her face by an inch.

The worst part was the cold of the flames. Ion could still feel it, like fingers of the dead reaching out and digging into her. Chunks of ice formed on her cheeks, the heat leeched from the air in seconds. 

Despite that, the demon huffed in disappointment, vanishing again for another exchange. Liam slunk into the shadow before the glaive could strike him, and a blink later, an arrow bounced off the scythe, giving Reya a chance to step back and bring up more barriers. A drop of sweat ran down her face, and a line of frozen blood sat on the other side.

Black fire swirled with foreboding mist around Requiem. The world seemed fragile and brittle at their touch, but it still wasn’t quite pleased. With each motion, more of that casual ease bled off of them. The usurper frowned, clearly unhappy, twirling their weapon, sending shards of obsidian ice flying, while muttering to themselves about ‘inefficiencies’.

They tapped the butt of the scythe on the ground once, twice, then moved to take a step - yet, before their foot landed, Matt was there. Within its range. His blade was already mid motion, the world screaming at its edge. It was honed to such perfection that the air split cleanly. 

Requiem brought the war-scythe up to meet his blade, beating it away with greater leverage, then stepping forward to send an uppercut crashing into Matt’s jaw. But their fist only met Astraeus. [Unyielding Metal] activated in tandem with [Inexplicable Reinforcement], power stacking on top of itself just to keep Ion standing.

The blow was brutally violent. Darkness and obsidian tore at Astraeus, the cold grinding away at the gold, but his maelstrom kept drawing more power from within. The little spirit was nascent no longer, and just as unyielding as Ion herself. It dragged and thrashed against the power, anchoring itself in the world by its will in the moment it took the clash to pass. 

A blink later, Requiem leapt back, an arrow tearing through where they had just stood, vanishing in mid-air, before it could crush another building to rubble. Ion bit her lips. That was the trouble, after all - they couldn’t properly go all out. The city would shatter. Not that the usurper cared.

Their face simply twisted into a snarl, as they stepped forward again, only to be met by a tide of shadow. Blackness spilled over darkness, the cold embrace of the night smothering their dreadful flame, and Liam manifested as a monstrous thing of nightmare. 

He lasted about half a second before losing two of his six arms, diving back into the shadows after tearing some of the demon’s suit. Then, Requiem’s eyes landed on Ion again. They licked their lips, reaching out a hand, coalescing a dark vortex. Freezing cold spread across the battlefield in a moment, a freezing, obsidian haze.

Ion breathed in once, and then her heart stopped.

It froze, right within her chest. She looked down for a moment, seeing the patch of black ice with an almost confused look. Then, Divinity spilled into her.

Cold was banished, and her frozen heart thawed within a moment, returning to beat. Requiem simply clicked its tongue, stepping forward again - but Ion vanished. The air was a mirror, and a single step carried her far, far into the sky. A moment later, the usurper was next to her again, that horrid screech of a song accompanying its every move.

But then, Mana spilled into the world. So much mana it made the air tremble. “Thanks, Ion,” Ann said, almost gently. “Couldn’t really cut loose down there. Let me show you what I’ve been preparing.”

A spell circle sprawled out behind the mage’s thin figure, sending her lilac shirt fluttering in the wind. It was a massive, horridly complex creation - more like a spell sphere, utilizing a full three dimensions. Inscriptions, runes and magical symbols coated the firmament, a thousand pages spelled out in magical ink.

“Uh-oh,” Requiem said for a moment.

Ann grinned. “Let’s see if I have the talent for war-magic,” she hummed with amusement, then intoned the spell. “Nova.”

In front of Ion, the sun blossomed.

Light spilled forth in a thousand beautiful arcs, and with it, horrible heat spread from it. The spell instantly turned its own incantations to ash, the Mana itself burning away at its abhorrent heat. Ion closed her eyelids, only to have them scorched, before Ann dragged her away in a teleportation.

Twice more the world shifted, bringing them far, far out of town. Still, that second star shone in the sky, with all the incandescent horror that such a thing might bring. Solar flares covered the surface of the ball of mana, a spell that had been in the works ever since the fight started.

Matt appeared a moment later, the edge of his sword honed ever further. The melody played between us, now. Ion heard the connection, the way their steps played into each other, the way the music led them forward. A breath passed, then a second, and her grip around Aestraeus tightened.

Darkness cracked the sun.

A black blot, spreading outwards, echoing resonance infesting and eating away at the bright star. It was like watching a virus spreading in a timelapse, crawling tendrils of ink eating away at the second sun, before the entire thing crumbled away in obsidian flakes.

Requiem took a while to spot them, frowned at their designated spot, then sighed and moved. “Must we do this?” it asked, war-scythe so casually on a shoulder, motions exaggerated. “Must we fight? It is inevitable that you fall. My every breath infests this world. Your leaders are but puppets,” they sighed. “Give yourself up and we may yet make it merciful.”

“Never,” Ion hissed.

“Ah, a shame. I hoped not to tell you this, but indeed, the news has just reached me. Mr. Terril, acting CEO of the company formerly known as Zinnic, has just now established contact with one Mrs. Bethany Bellum.” Their lips twisted into a cruel, horrid expression. Steel and pain flashed behind Ion’s eyes. “No,” she whispered.

“Indeed,” Requiem said slowly. “It’s the end of the line, designated target. Your life or your family. Choose.” The smile reached their eyes, glinting with cruel joy. “And make sure you won’t regret it.”

Chapter 270: Outset

Chapter 270: Outset

Mercury, very reasonably, should not have had a sunburn.

His regeneration Skill had just evolved. He was made of wood and ice and air and energy now. All of those things inherited material properties that made them suitable for being something living - apparently that also meant they degraded under sunlight? In a way, everything did but still… this seemed oddly fast.

After all, Mercury was tough! Things took rather large bites out of him rather frequently, so it didn’t always feel that way, but he was tough. He could break stone with his paws if he hit it hard enough. Hell, most metal would break if it hit him. An ordinary steel sword probably couldn’t even cut him anymore.

Despite all of that, his skin was red and raw and aching. It shouldn’t do that. He still had all the effects of <Adaptation> and <Hydration>! Every bit of damage he took both temporarily and permanently increased his resistance to that form of damage. If the sun was causing him trouble, he should just heal up and have it fixed.

“That looks nasty. Let’s get you some ointment?” Zyl suggested, combing his fingers through his boyfriend’s fur. Mercury just grumbled in reply. 

He didn’t want to get burnt ointment, but apparently, life didn’t go as he wanted. With a gentle roll of his eyes, he stepped outside with Zyl - and instantly, the sun seemed very bright to him. Like, oddly bright. He looked over at the dragon and squinted. “Hey, Zyl… does the sun look… bigger, to you?” he asked.

The dragon gave the sky a quick glance, then gently shook his head. “Not to me, no,” he said. “Does it to you?”

“Just a smidge,” Mercury said, voice filled with suspicion. “Might be imagining it.”

In response, Zyl only gave a noncommittal hum, opting to instead walk through the city with Mercury, opening up a small parasol to shield the mopaaw from the heat. His skin was still raw, after all, so it was best to avoid more direct exposure.

Soon, they’d stopped at an apothecary, gotten some ointment, and headed back home. Zyl rubbed it in, even though it smelled a little too strong, and Mercury complained about how sticky it made his fur feel. “It’ll help,” Zyl reassured him.

Of course, he was right. Mercury could feel that it was cooling his skin down. The sunburn was less uncomfortable. He also assimilated some ice into his skin right underneath it, cooling the area further, just to let his skin heal properly. He stayed inside all day.

And so, a little while passed. After a day or three, Mercury was hale and hearty again, the little sunburn nothing more than a memory. He still avoided the sun largely, but eventually, decided to lay down in his hammock again, enjoying a couple rays of sunlight. 

He hopped into his favourite spot right underneath the window, letting the light gently reach his fur… and then he hissed. It felt so dang hot! His eyes turned to the sky again, and he instantly hopped out of his hammock, skin already feeling a little raw. His fur curled slightly from the heat.

“The sun’s getting bigger, Zyl,” Mercury announced, barging into his boyfriend’s studio. 

The dragon turned to meet the mopaaw, blinking slowly. He wore an apron splashed with colour, then gave a gentle sigh, dragging his hand through his hair, and walked with Mercury to the window he laid in. Hesitantly, Zyl held a hand into the light.

Nothing happened.

“It feels completely normal,” the dragon said, flipping his hand over. He stuck his face down, taking a good look out the window, squinting as he stared right at the sun. “Size seems normal, too,” he hummed.

Mercury frowned, a deeply unhappy expression wearing itself deep into his snout. “Fine, alright, let me show you, then,” he said haughtily. Without hesitation, he stepped into the light.

A moment passed, then two, and then, there was a soft sizzling. Zyl sniffed the air, then his eyes widened, and he pulled Mercury out of the sunlight, waving away the remaining bits of smoke. His fur was curled again, the ends blackened ever-so-faintly. The two just spent a moment staring at each other.

“Are you-”

“I am not becoming a vampire, Zyl,” Mercury said with a frown. “No, I did not let anyone else bite me. No, I did not contract any diseases. I think the sun just decided it hates me.”

The dragon opened his mouth one more time, but Mercury interrupted him. “Yes, Zyl. I’m entirely, 100% positive I’m not turning into a vampire.” Zyl shut his mouth, giving a sigh instead as he dragged his hand through his hair again.

“What then?” he asked, after a little while, the two having taken more steps away from the sunlight. “Why would the sun hate you?”

“Jealousy or something? I dunno,” Mercury said with a shrug. “I’m not exactly a sun expert.”

Zyl crossed his arms, and his brows knitted together as he frowned. “So what do we do? Can you just… assimilate the sunlight?”

For a moment, Mercury hummed at the idea. “Sure, let’s try it.” He quickly took a step forward, into the light, and stole a couple strands of light to weave into himself.

They promptly began searing long lines of black into his flesh. Any part of him they touched burnt, until they wore themselves out of power. Zyl hissed as he saw the effect, even though Mercury was mostly unbothered. <Babbling Brook> easily took care of the pain from a little bit of burnt flesh. Instead, he just sighed softly.

“Seems like I can’t assimilate it away,” Mercury noted drily. “What else do we got?”

For a long moment, Zyl said nothing, evidently stumped. He just kind of… stared at the window angrily. As if punching it might solve everything. Mercury really did appreciate the sentiment, but for now, he’d jot down “punching the sun” as… well, not exactly first spot on the list of things to try.

“I’ll get another fire-specialist,” Zyl said eventually. “You just wait here.”

Mercury gave a soft snicker. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t step into the light.”

Which made the dragon shoot him a glare before he ran off.

- - -

Lucia gave him a smug grin. “Chuchuchu. What’s wrong, Mercury? Can’t handle a little sun? Maybe if you spent less time cooped up in-”

Mercury held his paw into the light. It quickly started smoking.

The priestess’ eyes widened. “Oh. Shit.”

With an eyeroll, the mopaaw nodded. “Yeah. Shit. It sucks pretty hard. So, what do we do?”

“What do I know?” Lucia said haughtily, shrugging. “I am no sun-scholar. You’d be better served browsing the library… or, I suppose, heading eastward. The Skyflame Monks may be able to better help you.”

Zyl blinked. “The Skyflame Monks?” he asked.

Lucia shot him an almost annoyed look, then nodding, her long hair bobbing up and down with the motion as she crossed her arms. “Yeah. The Skyflame Monks. It’s a sect on the eastern part of Damoy. Lots of sects there. I’m… not completely aware of the political landscape, but I know its rough layout.”

“And what would that be?” Mercury asked.

“Speaking plainly, there are righteous, demonic, and chaotic sects. These are at a constant war with each other for resources. Most of these conflicts try to spare ‘mortals’ the trouble - these cultivators themselves consider themselves on the path to immortality - but anyone walking around may be a cultivator in disguise. Conflicts escalate quickly, and often result in backup being called. Being respectful is seen as rather important,” Lucia summarized.

Mercury gave a long, deep breath, then slowly, took on a gentle smile. “Do they have many monsters?” he asked.

“Oh, tons,” Lucia said with a dismissive wave. “Spiritual beasts are abundant in the mountains.”

“Any idea on their stance towards true kin like me?” Mercury asked.

At that, the priestess gave a long hum, tapping her chin in thought. “I can’t say for certain,” she said, dragging out the words, “but I’d imagine that a sort of human form might do better. Then you could simply claim to have awoken some kind of ancient bloodline or somesuch,” she suggested.

Finally, Mercury nodded. He smiled a little, and then took a deep breath. Turning to Zyl he gently tilted his head. “So?” he asked.

“So?” Zyl asked right back, tilting his head in a mirror of the cat’s motion.

In response, Mercury tilted his head the other way. “We doing a roadtrip or what?” he asked, a thin smirk playing on his lips.

“You wanna travel?” the dragon asked, raising an eyebrow. “When you get hurt by the sun?”

“So we travel at night,” Mercury shrugged. 

Zyl snickered, then nodded, quickly running his hand through Mercury’s fur. “Of course I’m up for a road trip. I always am,” he said happily. Indeed, he seemed rather pleased at the thought of travelling. Then, his brows furrowed again. “How are you gonna solve the whole human form thing, though. I thought you turned down the Skill for it?”

At that, Mercury grinned. “I did,” he said. He had, after all, turned down <Self-Made Man>. But that didn’t mean he was out of options. 

There were a couple things in his toolkit he could use for rather severe body modification. He was probably not even going to need all of it! He could write it into the fabric of his existence, of course, but that didn’t seem quite… appropriate. Instead, he just picked a few different things.

<Grain of Infinity> supercharged <Shift>. It was a spell meant for making large-scale alterations to his body - he could, of course, use that to heal himself. But he could also use it to… squish himself down and reshape some parts. It worked on parts he had assimilated just as well as on his main self, and with the absolute torrent of energy powering it, the spell swiftly came into effect.

[<Shift> has levelled up! <Shift lv. 2 -> 4>]

Mercury’s body shifted and twisted painlessly. Body parts changed shape. And, at the same time, he pulled another little trick. He <Assimilated> his entire body.

Flesh, brain, bone, nerves, tendons… everything. Every organ, every piece of flesh and blood, all assimilated to reshape into body parts as he wanted.

In a few moments, he turned from a cat to a sentient mix of flesh, wood, ice, light, energy and air. Then, those parts trembled under his Skills and Spell. He was meant to be adaptable. He could dream himself into being, <Resolve> as whatever shape he wanted. Another Skill activated, and the goal shifted.

Flesh reshaped itself under the effect of more abilities, and slowly, Mercury took a humanoid shape. He grew two legs - though they were still digitigrade. He grew a long, slender torso, and a head. Parts of him were carved from ice and wood, but they were so lifelike it hardly mattered.

The Dream of Starvation wove around his legs, giving the appearance of pants, and even an elegant pair of sleek, black shoes. The Storm’s Raiment wove into existence as a long-sleeved suit jacket and undershirt, both in pure white, almost matching Zyl. Mercury’s hands were carved from ice and sported long claws. His face was handsome, his features sharp.

His face looked middle aged. He wore a well-cut beard of silver, reaching around his mouth and upper lip, but not further up his cheeks - it was, in fact, ice, but refracted the light to look silver enough. The rest of his face was covered in faint fur, too. His eyes were the same as always, silver, with clouds of purple passing deep in them. His hair was made from his fur, a messy tide of it pooling down to his shoulders.

When he’d lived on earth, he’d cut it short, but by now he was used to it. The tips of it were a faint lilac, the same as the patterns on his fur had been. A pair of cat ears poked out from his mane, small reminders that he was not quite human. Lines of many smiles were worn into his face, crow’s feet just beginning to form, his features equally sharp and gentle. He was handsome, but not outrageously so. 

And then, for the final touch - <Veil> and an inverted <Truth>, turning it into a <Lie>.

They hid the facsimile of his shape. Fur began to look like human hair. His icy beard was just like normal. His face, carved from wood, and covered in faint fur, seemed like human skin. His hands, ice cold, gained an impression of warmth. Claws disappeared. His legs bent the normal way. His tail, lazily waving in the air behind him, was still there, though with <Veil> covering it, and the Storm’s Raiment hanging around his shoulder and below his back, it would be hard to notice.

And then, Mercury smiled.

Somehow, this version of him was alive. If he regenerated long enough, he could even make this into a fully flesh-based facsimile of a human. <Assimilation>, combined with <Shift> was enough to let him shapeshift, after all.

As his face moved, the lines of smiles wore themselves just a little deeper into his face. “What do you think?” he asked.

Zyl and Lucia stood there with their jaws hanging open.

“I’m more buff than I ever used to be, yes, but to be fair… I literally have a <Tempered Body>! I deserve the muscles, surely,” he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head in a very human way. Some of the habits were returning to him even as he spoke.

There was a real heart thumping in his chest, and real lungs letting him draw breath. He had an extra pair of ribs, amusingly, and his spine needed some working; it wasn’t quite human. There were a few oddities about his body, some strange movements, but <Veil> made it all seem natural.

Amusingly, since cat legs were too different from human arms, he had entirely formed the arms from assimilated ice and wood, opting to keep the flesh that made up his front legs in <Assimilation>’s storage feature until he became a cat again.

Zyl, very slowly, licked his dry lips. His eyes shook slightly. “You’re… how…?” he gasped slowly.

“Hm?” Mercury’s eyes turned a little sad, almost worried. He took a shuffling step forward, stumbling gently, then stopped. He didn’t reach out, didn’t touch Zyl. He just balled his fist. “I’m sorry,” he said, the smile vanishing. He turned to the side, staring at the floor. “I thought this would be fun, and that-”

A moment later, the dragon grabbed him by the shoulders, intently staring into his eyes. “You’re so handsome!” Zyl said. Mercury blinked. Zyl smiled, almost tearing up a little. “You look great, Mercury. Is this what…?”

“Don’t ask that,” the mopaaw chided, ever so gently, his eyes softening again. He pressed a kiss against Zyl’s lips for a short moment, pulling the dragon into a hug. “I’m glad you aren’t repulsed.”

“Never,” the dragon said gently. “In fact,” a small smile wove itself on his face, too, and he leaned forward, to whisper into Mercury’s human ears - he had two pairs of them now, yes. “If you show me your dragon form, I’ll turn into a mopaaw,” he said quietly.

Mercury blushed a little at the proposal, then laughed. “Hahaha! Alright. Sounds good.” He stared into the dragon’s eyes for a while longer, letting the moment linger. Then, he remembered Lucia was in the room, and turned to look at the priestess.

She blinked at him, and he blinked back, and then, Lucia blinked a dozen more times. Mercury hastily extracted himself from Zyl’s embrace, stumbling back - his new legs still taking some getting used to. He’d have them down soon though. He was a quick learner. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” Lucia said, turning slightly red, quickly bringing up her hands and turning around. “I was just surprised,” she said with a few coughs. “Shapeshifting magic isn’t particularly common. I hadn’t thought you were capable of it.”

“That was my first attempt,” Mercury readily admitted, with an awkward chuckle.

Instantly, Lucia whipped around again, grabbing him by the shoulders - or trying to. Mercury just took a step backwards. Lucia blinked as she grabbed air, then pulled back awkwardly, taking a more dignified position. “Well,” she spoke slowly. “For a first attempt it was quite skilled. I also appreciate you summoning clothes before… Well.”

“Yeah,” Mercury said. “No worries. That’d be very weird of me.”

“Quite,” she said. Then, slowly, she seemed to get her wits about her again. Bit by bit, she smiled at Mercury. “You’re still smaller than me,” she noted.

At that, the mopaaw laughed. “Hah! Yes. I sure am. You’re tall! And I’ve never been a giant.”

“You’re not small either,” Zyl noted. 

“Five-eight-ish,” Mercury said.

“I have no idea what that means,” Lucia shook her head. “Those are random numbers.”

Mercury laughed, rubbing the back of his head again. “Sorry. Measurements where I’m from.”

Nodding with Grace, Lucia simply accepted the answer. Then, she walked past Mercury, gazing out the window. “Iris will take this news terribly,” she said with a sigh. “She was hoping you’d be cuter. Perhaps suitable for dresses.”

“Hahahaha! No, I’m more comfortable in pants,” he noted drily. 

“We will not press the issue,” Lucia said with a small sigh.

Mercury raised an eyebrow. “We?” he asked.

“Iris,” the priestess correctly sharply, clenching her hands into fists behind her back. “Iris will not press the issue.”

Snickering in reply, the mopaaw just nodded. “Sure, sure,” he said. “Now, Zyl. Anything else we need covered before heading out?” he asked, tilting his head gently. The gesture looked casually curious in his human form. Combined with his eyes, it felt a little like he was going to pick apart whatever he was looking at.

Zyl shivered for a moment, then gave a smile and a shake of his head. “Not particularly,” he said. “Just a couple changes of clothes.”

“I am wearing living metal and a storm, Zyl,” Mercury noted.

“Correction,” the dragon noted, “I will need a couple changes of clothes.”

At that, the mopaaw snickered. “Go pack your luggage,” he said. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

Lucia blinked at the two of them in confusion, then gave a gentle sigh. “So you’ll be travelling again, then?”

“Sure will.”

She crossed her arms, raising a single eyebrow. Mercury felt heat spill off her as her annoyance began to rapidly climb. “And you’ll expect me to let everyone know, huh?”

Looking at her expression, Zyl quickly darted off to grab his clothing, but Mercury was prepared for this situation. He gave her his brightest, kindest, most gently-awkward smile. “Well, you are one of our most trusted friends. Hearing it from someone as kind as you might also make the news easier to take for some, y’know.”

At that, she stared at him, then haughtily looked away. “Hmph! Fine, then. I’ll play page for you,” she admitted grumpily. 

Mercury gave a bright smile, and nodded. “Alright. I’ll make you some tea while we wait for Zyl to be ready, alright? He might need a lil bit.”

- - -

Three cups later, the dragon finally clambered back down the stairs, carrying an overstuffed, bulging red suitcase. Mercury snickered at the sight, and Lucia rolled her eyes. “What all did you take,” she asked.

Zyl ran a hand through his hair, smiling awkwardly as he came up to the table. “Well,” he started. “Sunscreen, travel weights set, some make up and remover, my gloves, three self-cleaning suits, painting supplies, a bit of gardening gear…”

“Gardening gear?” Mercury asked.

“Ah. I was planning to sell myself as a travelling herbalist,” Zyl said with a soft snicker. “Suits me, doesn’t it?”

Mercury thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Huh,” he said. “It’s quite clever, really. Yes. I’ll bill myself as a blacksmith, then,” he said happily. “Or woodworker, too, I suppose.”

Lucia shook her head at their antics, taking another calm sip from the iced tea. “You two will be hidden old masters, then,” she said with a sly smile.

“Masters? Surely not,” Zyl said, looking at his suitcase. Mercury quickly tapped it, depositing it in his inventory. With a raised eyebrow he asked an unspoken question, and Zyl nodded awkwardly. 

The dragon’s inventory must already be filled with more suitcases. 

“Be off then,” Lucia said, closing her eyes as she sipped the tea, lazily waving her hand. “It’s dusk. You should get an early start before Mercury starts burning at the break of dawn.”

“Right, thanks Lucia!” Zyl said, quickly pulling open the door. Mercury walked after him slowly, throwing the priestess another thankful glance and a wave, which she returned. When the door swung closed again, she gently set down the teacup and wistfully looked out the window.

“Finally,” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “Some peace and quiet.”

For Mercury was off to make a different region of the world unsafe. 

Despite all that, though… he smiled as he took the first few steps out of the gate and onto the road, taking a deep breath. There was something about travelling, something that the city just didn’t have.

Mercury Rainfall Starlight was on the road again. Beware all travellers who met him, may their fates be forever changed.